#i make. so much conscious effort to be careful with things that are expensive and important. and then i crush my cellphone into a fine glass

[xiaowhore]

equivalent exchange.

DRAFT. this fic is incomplete, as i've stated in this post. this has been sitting in the dungeon for a while, and i have no plans to finish them, but i posted these drafts to not let them go to waste. it is up to you if you still want to read them regardless of their incompletion :) i will be writing my original ideas for the fic at the end so you guys will have an idea of what the fic was supposed to be like.

premise. when ayato stumbles upon a drafted resignation letter on your desk, he doubles his efforts to show you the perquisites of staying by his side.

he doesn't want to lose a competent subordinate. that's all there is to it.

note. what's wrong with secretary kim au but it's definitely not the same because i stopped watching at episode 5 and have no idea what happened. anyways i think we were all expecting a ceo!ayato x secretary!reader fic at some point so here it is. (couldn't keep this gender neutral for plot reasons, so feminine pronouns were used.)

Kamisato Ayato considers himself a good boss.

Or as far as things go, he's a decent one. He treats his employees well, takes them to expensive restaurants for company dinners, and discourages overtime so they can head off early for the night. He doesn't care much for formalities, and he gets along with his colleagues fairly well. He's never heard anyone talk behind his back or complain about his attitude at work, and there aren't any rumors spreading about him (if he turns a blind eye to the conspiratorial gossip guessing his relationship status).

But he does have minor faults. Like showing a more mischievous side when work hours are over. Getting Thoma dead drunk during dinners because his half-conscious inebriated talking is a form of amusement, or riling up Itto in drinking games just because it's funny. Then he leaves Sara to clean up the mess for him, since Yae seems to enjoy the comedy sketch as thoroughly as he does and probably won't lift a finger to help even if he asked her to.

As his assistant, you're prone to falling victim to his shenanigans, silly stunts that coax out aggravated eye rolls and sighs of exasperation. Years of experience eventually shaped you up to be entirely immune to April Fools' pranks.

He's in the middle of planning another one when he spots a letter of resignation on your desk.

At first, he thinks it's your rebellious phase arriving a decade late. He always found it odd how you never retaliated against his tricks, and this may just be the long-awaited April Fools' prank of vengeance. If it is, it's particularly mean of you—Ayato does have feelings, you know? Even he would feel hurt if you told him you wanted to leave! You shouldn't take this kind of thing lightly!

Then he remembers you aren't the type to make jokes, April Fools' or otherwise, and it's that moment when he feels (proper) fear.

“[Name] wants to resign?!”

Ayato makes a zipping motion and Thoma's shrieks immediately die down, but the disbelief on his face has yet to wane. His brows scrunch together, brain hard at work in processing this piece of information, though it seems to short-circuit in utter confusion from the sudden blow.

Scandalized, Thoma lowers his head and levels his voice to a hushed whisper, “Are you sure you saw it correctly?”

“I have able eyes. Unfortunately, my optometrist confirmed my perfect vision and assured I saw it just fine.” Woe is he.

“Get them checked again.”

“No matter how much I check, it won't change the results, Thoma.”

“We don't know that for sure, sir!”

“Trust me,” Ayato deadpans, looking off into the distance, “I checked with him thrice.”

Defeated, Thoma leans back to his chair, crossing his arms while deep in thought. “You saw the letter, but she didn't turn it in, did she?”

“She didn't. No e-mail, either.” Ayato taps the table in a mindless rhythm, expression stern but the shape of his lips almost resembling a pout. “Do you have any idea why she'd want to resign?”

Thoma rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Is that a genuine question, sir?”

Ayato's head snaps back to look at his companion. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“...Everyone in the office knows you... tease her for your own amusement.”

“It's my way of showing affection.” The corners of his lips curl up, stretching to a twisted smile as he rests his cheek on his palm. “Isn't she just so adorable when she gets angry?”

“You really do have a rotten personality.”

Ayato waves his hand in a noncommittal response. “We're straying off topic. What should we do next?”

Thoma hums, closed fist beneath his chin. “Since she hasn't turned in the letter yet, that means she must be hesitating. For what reason, we don't know, but it's keeping her here. So before she makes up her mind, we should dissuade her from quitting no matter what.”

Ayato laces his fingers together, brow in an inquisitive arch. “And we do that by?”

Green eyes sparkle with tenacity, clashing with blue irises twinkling in intrigue. “We bribe her, sir. It's time to show off your good points.”

--

“If a woman quits her job, what do you think her reasons could be?”

Ayaka blinks owlishly at her brother, taken aback by the abrupt question. It's a sudden thing to ask, especially odd given how their conversation hasn't led to that topic at all. “Did someone resign? I haven't heard anything of the sort, though.”

Ayato shakes his head, stirring the boba tea in his hands. “It's a hypothetical.”

Which means it's real.

Ah, whatever. At least he didn't go for the “my friend...” excuse.

Ayaka warily cuts a portion of her cake, scrutinizing each microexpression flashing on Ayato's face. It's one of their weekly lunch meetings, squeezed between hectic schedules, and they more or less have a silent agreement to avoid discussions involving work if they could help it. But this time, he brought it up himself.

How peculiar.

“Perhaps she wants to change workplaces? If she's exemplary, she might have been offered a better position or higher pay.”

Ayato nearly scoffs at the suggestion. The company, old-fashioned as it is, can only be inherited by a direct line of descendants. Outsiders can only go so far, and being the secretary for the chief executive officer isn't bad at all. Last time he checked, he's been paying you generously as well—how many figures was it? Six?

“Oh!” Ayaka exclaims, holding up a finger as she seems to have figured out something. “Or maybe she wants to settle down and get married? If her work is keeping her occupied, she'll most likely take time off to find a husband.”

Ayato proceeds to choke on a tapioca pearl.

“Or she got married and wants to be a housewife-”

“That's quite enough, Ayaka.”

Ayato would rather believe the Earth is flat.

--

If Ayato were any less desperate, perhaps he would have rationalized that putting together “give her what she wants to make her stay” and “she wants to get married” is a bad, bad idea.

Unfortunately for him, he is grasping at straws, so it leaves him no choice. Yes. Definitely. There is no other option than this, obviously.

(He does not delve deeper into the reason why he doesn't want you to leave, nor does he dwell any longer on why he was so quick to think he was fine with getting married if it was to you.)

“Don’t you want to get married soon, Ms. [Surname]?”

To clarify, Ayato does not spy on other people's conversations for a hobby, but he's always had impeccable timing. It comes with the job.

He stands by the door, reaching for the doorknob to the break room, but the mention of your name forces him to a halt.

“Why are you asking me that...?” You awkwardly dodge the question, sipping on your coffee. “I suppose I am at that age, though.”

“So you do want to!” The squeal rings with a note of glee, a stark contrast to Ayato's gradually dimming mood. “Wouldn't it be nice to marry a good man? I'm sure even you have thought of it at some point! Are you seeing anyone, then? Anyone you can imagine yourself marrying?”

“No, not yet.”

Before Ayato can even heave a relieved sigh, you follow with, “But my mother is making me go on dates to see people. Said if I didn't bring home a man soon, she'd come all this way to drag me back by my ear and introduce me to her friend's son.”

“Ah, I get that...” Your friend replies emphatically, nodding. “But those kind of meetings hardly go well. And you can't exactly tell your mother's friend you don't find her son attractive, right?”

“Why not just marry Mr. Kamisato, then?” Another one pipes up, to which Ayato gives a mental salute of appreciation. “You spend most of your time together. If you're not married to your job, then you're practically married to him.”

A cackle sends his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Not a chance.”

Can you at least expound why?!

“Huh? Why not? I mean, Mr. Kamisato is on another realm of existence and I can never hope to be on the same level as him, but you look good together!”

Your face pinches to a tight frown. “Look good together? In what way?”

“When you stand side by side, it just looks... right. And like I've mentioned earlier, you spend all your time with him. Why not seal the deal?”

“Mr. Kamisato is reliable, and if you marry him, you're set for life. He's handsome too, and we've all seen his muscles at our company sports day a few months ago!”

“I've never been so thankful for team-building events. Hallelujah.”

Ayato's face burns in embarrassment hearing the dreamy sighs. Even if they think there isn't anyone else listening on them (which is false), shouldn't they exert some restraint at work?

“Please don't lust over my boss,” you assert sternly, voice ice cold. “And we have a strictly professional relationship. So don't get any weird ideas from here on out, alright?”

“Fine. Tell me that again when I'm invited at your wedding, I dare you.”

“I said-”

They wave off your vehement protests at the statement. “Then if you're not into Mr. Kamisato, what do you plan to do?”

Ayato perks up, straining his ears in rapt attention.

“...I'm going on a date this weekend,” you sigh, rubbing circles on your temples. “I'll let you know how it goes.”

Oh no.

--

“-Dinner was nice. We didn't expect the rain shower, but he ran to the convenience store across the street to buy an umbrella because he didn't want me to get wet on the way to the car. He said it would be a waste if my hair got ruined since I-”

Slurp.

“...Styled it for the occasion. Then he drove me home. I found out we liked the same band from the music he played, and we agreed to-”

Sluuurp.

“-Go to their upcoming concert together. Then we somehow also like the same novel that's getting a movie adaption soon, so we also promised to see it-”

Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuurp.

“Could you please refrain from making noise when eating, sir?”

Ayato decidedly does not comply and only slurps his boba tea harder, nearly choking on a tapioca pearl yet again.

As always, you learn to ignore him.

“Concert... and a movie. I'm not sure about the concert, but the film you're talking about is the one coming out in the next two months, right?” Thoma confirms, sweating when Ayato's expression turns visibly grim. “You plan to see him for that long...?”

“Even if dating doesn't work out, we can always become friends, can't we?” You shrug, taking a bite out of your sandwich. “He seems like a nice guy. We get along really well, considering we've only met once. I ended up agreeing to a second date-”

The passive-aggressive slurping persists for the following afternoon.

--

“I've been meaning to ask for a while,” Thoma treads carefully, noticing Ayato's rapid-fire typing—no, striking—on the keyboard, “Ms. [Surname] is good at her job, but you seem really... eager to make her stay, sir.”

Ayato's fingers halt in their movement, and he takes a second to flash his business smile. “Of course. She's a valuable asset, and I'd be foolish to let her go.”

“Yes, I'm well aware, but...” Thoma scratches his cheek, looking off to the side. “You didn't go to such lengths when your former assistants resigned from their post. Or, uh... you fired most of them.”

“Yes,” Ayato simply agrees, still smiling, “she's competent. You don't find anyone like her easily, so it's only natural I'd want her to stay.”

“What do you mean by 'anyone like her,' sir?”

Thoma is awfully talkative today. Ayato might need to feed him something spicy to shut him up.

“Ms. [Surname] is special.” The words smoothly leave his lips. “Does anyone else have the meetings and company events scheduled for the next month memorized? She's the only one I can count on for work matters.”

Thoma's shoulders slump. “Okay, let me get straight to the point. Do you-”

“Mr. Kamisato?”

Thoma nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, accompanied by the clack of your heels.

“What is it?” The cold smile on his face finally melts to something more genuine, softer around the edges and looking especially radiant. It's welcoming, like your arrival counts as a joyous occasion, and he is exponentially more attentive compared to the way he lent Thoma half his ear (the other preoccupied with a phone call, which he swiftly ends the moment you walk in).

“I came to deliver some files from Ms. Miko... did I interrupt something?” You gesture to Thoma standing idly by the side, dumbfounded from Ayato's inconceivable behavior.

“Not at all. Is there anything else?” Ayato accepts the documents, noticing your hesitance to leave.

“Ah, yes, I will be asking for time off tomorrow.”

That's... rare?

But it's not a hard request. Ayato's own schedule is blank for the most part, since the latest project wrapped up not too long ago, and the workload is lighter than usual. Missing one work day won't do any harm.

“It's fine, but could I ask why?”

You fidget, tentative as you reply, “I was invited... for a trip on a cruise. He insisted I come since his friend bailed on him and the tickets would go to waste.”

The warmth in his eyes freezes over.

“The tickets would go to waste...” Ayato repeats under his breath, mockingly cruel. The tone flies past your head but it hits Thoma full-force, making him sweat profusely.

Distasteful. An utter disgrace of a man. The magnitude of his ignorance is so awe-inspiring, I have to applaud. I must give credit where it is due, and the foolishness of this clown is truly impressive. “The tickets will go to waste,” he says? His money must worth more to him than his dignity. Inviting Ms. [Surname] to a date on a workday with no regard for her schedule is one thing, but making her out to be an afterthought as a substitute for his original travel partner is another. How shameful. This is no way to treat a lady. If Ayaka were to be with a man of his caliber, I would never allow it.

But what he says outloud is of course, “I see. I hope you have fun, then.”

--

Corporate events are, for the most part, adequately entertaining.

Preparing for it is not.

But the worst part isn't even brainstorming themes, or finding an appropriate venue, or planning the logistics, or writing the guest list.

It's choosing what to wear.

Actually, the cause for Ayato's headache isn't even what attire he'll go with. It's yours.

“That looks wonderful,” Yae praises, looking at the picture on your phone. It displays a silver necklace, a tear drop topaz encased in a diamond twist. It pairs well with the dress you bought with Ayaka last week, an elegant fit that accentuated your curves.

However.

“He chose that for you, didn't he?”

The stoic line of Ayato's mouth twitches and his eyes can't help but sweep over your screen, scrutinizing each grainy pixel.

Though he has plenty of insults prepared at his arsenal, he can't find anything to nitpick about. Damn it. It's a good choice.

“You'll look stunning,” Kokomi assures good-naturedly, smiling in delight. Ayato does not doubt that will be the case, but he's sure he would be in a foul mood the entire night if he were to see you adorning it.

He has already retrieved his coffee from the break room so he excuses himself to his office, long strides that lead him out of earshot.

As a result, he doesn't hear the following conversation.

“Why this, though?” Kokomi asks, looking closely at the accessory. “It's a simple design. Doesn't look like something a man would pick from the rest.”

You shake your head. “I just told him I wanted something blue, and I couldn't choose myself because there were too many that caught my eye...”

“Blue?” She echoes, a simple curiosity. “Why blue?”

“...It's a pretty color.”

--

It is an actual coincidence that Ayato runs into you in the middle of shopping.

You're hunched over a display stand showcasing a variety of earrings, deep in thought as you observe each one. You're doing that thing where you scrunch your nose in concentration, a habit Ayato doesn't think you even realize you have.

“Fancy meeting you here, Ms. [Surname].”

(He wonders what face you would've made if he said “You go here often?” instead. Probably some degree of disgust.)

You blink, correcting your posture and nodding in greeting. You don't look particularly thrilled to see him, but at least you're unbothered by the prospect of seeing your boss on a free day. “You're here to shop too, Mr. Kamisato?”

Ayato smiles amicably. “I am. Were you planning to buy earrings?”

“Yes, but...” Your gaze returns to the display, your own smile faltering. “It is a bit difficult to choose.”

He walks over, scanning the variety up and down. “Is it really? You only need to choose a pair that matches your necklace, right?” He focuses on shades of silver, bypassing the vibrant colors of reds and pinks. Not even fifteen seconds later, he picks out a card and holds it out next to your ear. “This one looks nice on you.”

“Huh? Really?” Perhaps surprised by his swiftness, it takes you a moment to react accordingly. You take the card from his hands and flip it over, eyes widening by a fraction. “Oh. It is rather pretty.” Then they widen further as big as saucers. “I can't say the same for the price tag, though.”

“Hm? What price tag?”

He plucks the earrings from your hands, walks to the counter, and pays for it without a second thought.

“M-Mr. Kamisato?”

“Pull up your hair.”

“Eh? Oh, okay.”

You're so caught off guard that you unwittingly do as he says, tucking your hair back obediently and still processing the last two minutes.

His fingers tug at your ear, warmth bleeding to your skin, and by the time you return to reality, he's already putting the earrings on you.

STORY FLOW.

ok i lied i actually can't remember shit about this fic so i will be making up stuff as i go lol

what i do remember clearly is that the resignation notice that ayato found on your desk is years old. you meant to submit it way, way back when ayato was tougher on you, and you weren't as well-adjusted as you are now to the job yet. as stated in the fic, being ayato's secretary is no easy task—he'd fired countless people he thought was incompetent.

you fought a number of times, and you didn't know if you could keep up working for a man you thought was simply incompatible with you (in terms of being colleagues/partners).

but over time, you learned to work together. ayato acknowledged your efforts and hard work, and you knew ayato had been trying to give you less jobs to reduce your workload, but you were going to prove that hou could handle it.

what truly made you appreciate ayato more was when you got stranded at the train station. you dealt with a far company they collaborated with, but work ended later than expected, and you'd missed the last train home. taxis were an option, but youd have to go through several of them to get back. right when you were thinking of checking into a hotel, ayato informed you he was already on his way and drove a couple of hours to get where you were to bring you home.

time continued to pass, and that brings us back to the present. you were on the process of cleaning up your desk and left the old resignation notice out in the open by accident, which led to ayato seeing it.

it is very apparent to the others that you two like each other, but the involved parties themselves are unaware of it. you currently aren't eager to get married, but you were trying to meet people so your parents would stop bugging you about still being single.

anyway, ayato bought those earrings for you. timeskip to the corporate event. you unconsciously picked a blue motif for your outfit because it reminds you of ayato.

when you get there, surprise, surprise. the man you were meeting, kazuha is a bigwig, heir to some other corporation. he actually owned that cruise he invited you to and pretended he didn't because you might be intimidated. ayato didn't think the kazuha he knew and the kazuha you knew were the same person, and now the advantage he had over him was ruled out (i.e being rich). (actually while i was rereading i was surprised i didn't mention that it was kazuha...? istg i was imagining him the whole time i wrote about him)

anyhow, as it became later in the night, ayato wanted to get you home before kazuha could offer to drive you back or worse, spend the night with him. ayato acted drunk so you'd tend to him and accompany him home while his driver was in charge of taking you to his apartment. as you were nagging at him, he compared your interactions with him to yours and kazuha's. you were certainly nicer to that man. smiled at him a lot more, too. did you really like him that much?

if you did, could he let you go?

he was ashamed that he couldn't answer it right away. as if he had any right to whatever you do.

you carried him to bed when you got to his apartment, but when you were preparing to leave, he hugged you from behind. do you like that man? why do you want to leave me? why can't it be me? ayato was just pretending to be drunk, but he felt dizzy now, soaked in your scent. he said things that he wasn't supposed to. things that he couldn't take back. things that would change your relationship forever.

slowly, you took away the hands wrapped around your waist. ayato figured that was a message of rejection.

but then you pushed him back down on the bed and you straddled his lap. his mind was silent for but a few seconds before he started screaming mentally.

i've always wanted you, but i knew it was impossible. you have a fiancee. i'm an ordinary worker. your family won't accept me. ayato's mind was in a daze because your face was so close to his, and all he could see was the red, glossy shade on your lips, but he managed to hear those few sentences.

it doesn't matter. nothing else matters. i can't marry if it's not you. if you accept me, i swear i'll make you happy.

from here on, it could be a happy, fluffy ending where turns out, you were tipsy so you were more honest with him and you fell asleep in the middle of kissing so he took it upon himself to change your dress into something more comfortable and end the night with a forehead kiss...

...or you could continue what you were doing and the first thing ayato takes off is the damned necklace so he could replace it with a smattering of hickeys. your choice ^^

[aventurineswife]

Hiii, I'm not sure about this idea, but what about poor(?)reader who barely has money decided to make a handmade gift to Louch, Aventurine and Jiaoqiu? (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

A Token of Devotion

Tags: Luocha x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Fluff, Angst (Mild), Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn (for some), Established Feelings, Mutual Pining, Thoughtful Gestures, Emotional Depth, Gift-Giving, Poor!Reader, Handmade Gift, Soft Moments.

Warnings: Mentions of financial struggles (Reader being poor), Some emotional vulnerability from characters, Slight angst regarding self-worth and personal burdens, Mild past trauma mentions, Comforting moments and happy endings.

The Xianzhou Luofu was always bustling with life, but to you, the city’s markets only served as a reminder of your empty pockets. As an intergalactic traveler with barely enough money to buy a meal, extravagant gifts were out of the question. But when you thought about Luocha—the enigmatic merchant who had helped you time and time again—your heart ached to give him something in return.

So, you turned to the one thing you could offer: your hands.

You spent days carefully weaving a simple charm, using threads you scavenged from old fabrics. It wasn’t much—just a small green tassel, embroidered with a white flower. It was meant to resemble the ones on Luocha’s coat, a small token of appreciation for all he had done for you.

When the time came to give it to him, you hesitated. What if he found it childish? What if—

“Something on your mind?”

Luocha’s voice was gentle, pulling you from your thoughts. He stood beside you, his ever-present coffin resting on his back, his piercing eyes studying you with quiet curiosity.

You swallowed your nerves and held out the charm. “I… made this for you. It’s not much, but I wanted to thank you for everything.”

Luocha took the charm delicately, his fingers grazing yours. He examined it for a long moment, a small smile playing at his lips.

“A handmade gift,” he murmured, voice laced with something unreadable. “This must have taken you some time.”

You nodded, embarrassed. “I didn’t have money to buy anything nice, so I—”

“You misunderstand.” His eyes softened. “This is worth far more than any trinket I could buy.”

Your breath hitched as he carefully tied the charm to the handle of his coffin, letting it sway gently. His next words were quieter, almost as if they were meant for himself.

“A reminder that kindness does not always need to be repaid in coin.”

Luocha looked at you then, something warm and unreadable in his gaze. “Thank you. I will treasure it.”

Your heart stuttered. Maybe you weren’t as poor as you thought—because at that moment, Luocha made you feel richer than anyone in the stars.

You knew Aventurine was a man of luxury. Everything he owned was expensive—his suits, his accessories, even his dice were probably made of precious metals. Which meant buying him a gift was out of the question.

But you weren’t about to back down from the challenge.

So, you made something instead—a small deck of handmade playing cards. The designs were uneven, the paint smudged in places, but each card was made with care, featuring symbols inspired by his signature motifs: peacock feathers, gemstones, and spades.

When you presented it to him, Aventurine stared at the deck in silence, turning a card over in his gloved fingers. His eyes flickered with something unreadable.

“You made these?” he asked, a rare pause in his usual carefree demeanor.

You nodded, suddenly self-conscious. “I know it’s not much, but I—”

A chuckle escaped him, low and amused. “Not much? Sweetheart, do you have any idea how much effort this must’ve taken?”

You blinked, taken aback.

Aventurine shuffled the cards expertly, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “Handmade cards from you? I’d say that’s a one-of-a-kind treasure.” He twirled a card between his fingers before tucking the deck into his coat pocket. “A gift from the heart… Now that’s a gamble I’ll always bet on.”

His grin widened as he leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing whisper.

“Though I must warn you—I fully intend to make you play a round with me. And if I win…” He tapped your nose lightly, smirking. “You owe me another handmade surprise.”

You groaned, but the warmth in his expression made your heart flutter. Maybe, just maybe, you’d already won something far more valuable.

Jiaoqiu always gave so much to others. Whether it was his medical skills or his wisdom, he poured his heart into his work.

You wanted to return the favor—even if you had little to offer.

That’s how you found yourself carefully preparing a small, handmade snack using the most affordable ingredients you could find. It was a simple pastry, infused with herbs known for their calming properties—a recipe you had once seen Jiaoqiu mention in passing.

When you nervously handed it to him, Jiaoqiu blinked in surprise, his fox ears twitching slightly. “For me?”

You nodded, fidgeting. “It’s not much, but… I wanted to thank you.”

A slow smile spread across his lips, and for a moment, his irises shimmered with something soft. He took a careful bite, chewing thoughtfully.

Then, his expression melted into something fond.

“This… tastes like home,” he murmured.

Your breath caught.

Jiaoqiu looked at you then, eyes half-lidded but warm. “It’s been a long time since someone made something for me.” He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You have no idea how much this means.”

He reached out, gently patting your head before brushing a stray lock of hair aside. “Thank you. Truly.”

In that moment, you realized—maybe you didn’t need wealth to make a difference. Because in Jiaoqiu’s smile, in the quiet way he savored every bite, you knew your gift had found its place.

And that was more than enough.

[nordickies]

Remember when I used to make headcanon masterposts? Yeah, me neither, but here we go again! I don’t often get the chance to talk about Norway in depth, but he has been at the forefront of my mind lately. So I thought, why not bring my thoughts together in the form of a very long masterpost? This masterpost is packed with big and small ideas about his character that shape the way I personally write him.

I tried to gather everything I could think of, though I’m sure I’ve forgotten something along the way. I’ll happily update the list later. If people are interested, I’d love to finish similar posts for the rest of the Nordics as well as revisit some of the older ones!

So, without further ado, brace yourself and read the whole list below!

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Introduction

Norway’s human name is Sigurd Nordvik, and Mr. Norway (Herr Norge) is the title by which he is formally addressed. However, he doesn’t really care about official titles and prefers people to call him Norway or Norge. Sometimes his closest friends may use the human nickname "Sigge." In the past, he was called Sigurðr — or Siward in English. Sjur Ødegård has often been his go-to alias.

His chosen birthday is the 17th of May (Norway’s Constitution Day), but he has never been the type to celebrate himself. He prefers to keep the day as a celebration for his country and its people. He likes rotating the type of bunad he wears every year, and he heads to the streets to celebrate together with his people.

He speaks Norwegian and English, and due to his close relationship with his neighbors, he can speak Swedish and Danish too — though hesitantly, only when necessary. In the past, he spoke Old Norse, Latin, German, and French. However, he has since forgotten most of these languages and is no longer able to communicate through them efficiently.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Appearance

Sigurd has light grey eyes, reminiscent of mountain bedrock or morning fog. His head is long and narrow. He has a slightly bumpy, downturned nose, hollow cheeks, and a relaxed, expressionless face. His lips are thin, his eyes narrow, and his wavy, light blonde hair falls just to his neck, a little unkempt. A modest amount of facial and body hair adds to his understated ruggedness. His skin is pale but reactive, quick to flush in the cold wind, burn in the sun, or betray his mysterious image during heightened emotions. He's naturally quite thin and in fit shape due to his hobbies. He's tall, around 185 cm.

Sigurd doesn't outshine with his sense of fashion, dressing for convenience rather than looks. While he owns plenty of well-fitted suits and tailored longer coats for the occasions that call for them, he feels most like himself in chunky wool sweaters and hiking trousers, fit for the weather for the majority of the year. He seems to avoid bright colors, except red, but he loves detailed colorwork knits. He's frugal when it comes to many things and thus still knits his own sweaters. He claims he doesn't want to waste money on items he could easily make himself, and he certainly has similar sweaters in many variations in his closet. But, in contradictory fashion, he'll wear insanely expensive outdoor gear, technical boots, and windproof jackets without seeing any problem in subtly flexing through them.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Personality

Sigurd is a reliable, composed, and trustworthy person in any situation — the kind of friend you want to keep in your life. His honest yet genuine demeanor tends to leave a lasting impression, and he’s generally viewed in a very positive light. Though Sigurd is quiet and mysterious, his presence tends to spark curiosity rather than intimidation. Everyone wants to claim him as their best friend.

Naturally reserved, he can sometimes come across as distant or emotionally cold. However, he simply prefers to keep to himself, avoid bothering others, and not stand out too much. Sigurd makes a conscious effort to be respectful, often avoiding situations that could feel awkward for either party, so he tends to keep his social interactions formal and brief. Social settings overwhelm him easily, and if given the chance, he’ll quietly slip away before anyone even notices or makes a big deal out of it.

Emotionally, Sigurd is guarded. He struggles to express his feelings out loud, fearing they’ll be used against him or cause worry for others. He's used to being the sensible one, calming others down or offering a voice of reason. Sigurd being in a position where he’s the one needing help feels foreign to him. But once he’s drunk, he’ll open up more than usual, only to be hit with crushing embarrassment the next day for letting his guard down. He’s painfully shy around strangers and tends to overthink social interactions, worrying he’ll reveal too much. But to those who earn his trust, he reveals a gentler, more thoughtful side. He’s among the first to notice when someone is unwell, silently checking in—even if his concern comes out as awkward teasing. He cares deeply about his family and friends.

Still, beneath the stoic surface lies a playful spirit. Sigurd is a subtle trickster — fond of poking or teasing those he's close to, and dropping dry, sarcastic remarks with perfect timing. He pretends not to care, but he thrives on attention, especially after years of feeling like the forgotten player in their group. He secretly loves being talked about, praised, and even admired, though he quickly shuts down compliments. Still, he tends to view himself through his flaws rather than his strengths. Sigurd believes there are only a few things he’s truly talented at. When he falls short of his impossibly high standards, it feels like a crushing failure of his entire being. Despite his insecurities, Sigurd takes pride in his achievements. He’ll brag (modestly, but often) when things go well, especially if he wins something. He does his job well, always on time, and with quiet perfectionism that is often underappreciated.

Sigurd lives at his own pace, content without chasing flashy or grand goals. He’s outdoorsy, self-reliant, and focused on himself. You could say he's health-conscious due to many health-related issues in the past. But sometimes, he becomes overly fixated on it, especially during times of stress, to the point of overworking or limiting himself harshly. His relationship with money is also complicated. He’s used to surviving on very little, so even spending on small comforts can feel indulgent. He sometimes gets uncomfortable when people comment on his country’s wealth, fearing they’ll judge him personally because of it. As a result, he often steers the conversation away from the topic. Sigurd is snarky and elusive, the kind of person who could lie with a straight face if he wanted to. He's particularly skilled at keeping things about himself tightly under wraps, making him incredibly hard to read. He often projects calm and composure even when he’s unraveling inside. If anyone were built to be a manipulator, it would be Sigurd. But thankfully for those around him, he’s not malicious.

Sigurd’s emotional world is buried deep, shaped by experiences he rarely speaks of — tucked behind layers of dry humor and thoughtful silence. Perhaps because of this, he often drifts from the present, dissociating, his mind slipping into daydreams. Sometimes, he imagines fantastical scenes, far removed from the noise of everyday life. When faced with complicated emotions, Sigurd retreats into his head, withdrawing from others. Without a healthy outlet, his bottled-up feelings tend to leak out sideways — through excessive sarcasm, bullying, or self-sabotage. Left to his own devices for too long, Sigurd can grow apathetic and cynical, sinking into depression. That’s why he needs people who won’t give up on him, people who keep reaching out, even when his instinct is to push them away.

Sigurd’s emotional wounds surface in his relationships. He has trust issues, and his first instinct is to build walls when he fears getting hurt. Letting people in doesn’t come naturally to him. His past unions weren’t exactly unhappy, but they lacked mutual respect, leaving him feeling unimportant. His opinions and feelings were rarely considered in decision-making. Those experiences left a mark, making him doubt the idea of real love for someone like him. In his eyes, marriage between Nations has always been more political than personal.

Mysterious, humble, and sincere could all be words to describe Sigurd. He brings a calming presence but with a layer of sharp wit. His kindness is subtle but ever-present, tucked beneath layers of sarcasm, shy smiles, and a masked desire to be seen.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Lifestyle

Sigurd resides in Oslo due to the capital's role as the center of politics and entertainment, but he has previously lived in Bergen and Nidaros (Trondheim). When he has time off, he retreats to his mountain cabin to recharge. However, he sometimes has to deal with unexpected guests when his family also wants to enjoy a picturesque cabin weekend. It’s partly Sigurd’s own fault for wanting to be nice and offering the cabin for others to use whenever they want.

Sigurd's house is a bit chilly and serene, to the point where you can hear the old clock ticking through the halls or the walls cracking on the coldest winter days. The muted colors, a rocking chair, and large wooden cupboards all add to the tranquil atmosphere. He has a lot of old furniture he’s either kept or discovered in vintage shops. Both his house and cabin are filled with books and worn-down furniture he hasn’t dared to get rid of. He rarely buys new things as long as the old ones still work. When the silence stretches too long, he finds himself showing up unannounced at Björn’s or Magnus’ place (and raiding their pantries, calling it harrytur). The trio jokes that Sigurd is like a household cat — aloof and low-maintenance, but always returning when he wants warmth or food.

Still, Sigurd’s adventurous side doesn’t let him stay a hermit at home for too long. He’s well-traveled and deeply curious about other cultures. If he disappears for a while, he’s likely off-grid, hiking in jungles or trekking through remote landscapes. There’s hardly a place left on Earth he hasn’t visited — not even Antarctica. He’s terrible at keeping in touch or letting people know when he’s leaving, but they trust he’ll return home safely with new stories and the same worn backpack.

Sigurd has a strong, almost spiritual connection to nature. It means everything to him, and he’ll go stir-crazy if forced to stay indoors — even when he’s sick or injured. He genuinely believes in folkloric creatures like trolls, fairies, and elves, and he’s careful not to disturb rocks or trees out of respect for them. He’s passionate about environmental preservation and fascinated by Norse mythology and sagas. While he doesn’t publicly identify as a practicing pagan, he occasionally dabbles in folk magic. These interests, along with his deeply introverted habits and daydreaming nature, make him feel like someone stuck in another time. His brothers don't waste the opportunity to call him plain odd because of it, though.

Sigurd lives an active lifestyle. He skis, runs marathons, sails, and fishes — again subtly flexing with his high-quality fishing and hiking gear and regularly making trips to the northern wilderness. Back home, he goes for morning runs before sunrise, wearing reflective gear and a headlamp, preferring the peace of empty trails. In winter, he swaps running shoes for skis. Sigurd is sometimes seen as a kind of patron of sports, being the face of campaigns encouraging people of all ages to stay active. He loves attending sporting events and is always touched when asked to present awards and give speeches. He’s especially proud of working with youth sports organizations and anti-bullying campaigns.

Despite appearing like the poster boy for healthy living, Sigurd’s diet is another story. He survives on a strange mix of comfort foods — sugar-free cola, tacos, waffles, and frozen pizza, to name a few. He’s a decent cook but rarely strays from the few meals he enjoys. He’s not big on sweets, but he won’t turn down a piece of kransekake or anything almond-flavored. However, during hikes, he must carry a chocolate bar with him, which he'll open at the top of the mountain, resting for a moment and taking in the stunning view.

Sigurd also has a rich musical side — he plays the violin. In his youth, he would entertain others with his fiddle, providing atmosphere for celebrations. But most importantly, the instrument was a tool through which he could hone his skills and earn recognition. These days, he’s fascinated by electric violins. Sigurd enjoys emotional rock ballads and epic instrumental music. But once he’s drunk, he’ll sing along to Norwegian party songs with all his heart. He can become quite the loud party animal when intoxicated — but firmly denies it if teased.

Sigurd’s speaking voice is calm and airy, and he has a beautiful, soft singing voice. He has even been asked to narrate audiobooks of Norwegian literature classics. In quieter moments, he enjoys knitting and watching odd TV shows while curled up in his chilly living room. He developed an interest in roleplay and fantasy games in the 1970s and would gladly do it more often with the right group of friends. He’s also a cat person and adores kittens. He has two Norwegian Forest cats named Olaf and Mons.

As the youngest of the three brothers, Sigurd sometimes struggles with being compared to Magnus or Björn, becoming visibly upset and defensive about it. During his childhood, he had to fight for attention just to be seen and valued, but he rarely received the recognition that his brothers often did. Maybe that’s why he’s so fiercely competitive. Sigurd is always ready to join a friendly sports match — so long as he thinks he has a shot at winning. Even the most peaceful beach day tends to turn into a spontaneous contest, with Sigurd pestering someone to time his swim to settle once and for all whether he’s faster than Magnus or Björn. The same applies to chess, which Sigurd is insanely good at, or other strategic board games. Game nights in their family can thus turn rather chaotic very fast.

Sigurd isn’t particularly tidy either. After long fishing or hiking trips, he’ll barge into Björn’s place and flop onto the couch without a second thought, opening a bag of chips, still covered in travel grime. Naturally, Björn whines at him about it. But in true Sigurd fashion, he just shrugs and grins, teasing his way out of the scolding.

Sigurd’s view of his own immortality has shifted over the years, but his role as a representative of Norway has always given him a sense of purpose and motivation. He’s had bad experiences with other immortals, so he tends to seek meaning and comfort in his work — representing something he truly values. He wants to focus on what matters to him, finally pursuing his own goals instead of being held back by others. His job has strengthened his sense of self and purpose. While his responsibilities can feel limiting at times, he can recognize his immortality's nuances and appreciate the good sides of it.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Relationships

Sigurd is a reserved guy who doesn't have many deep friendships outside of his family. Most of the time, he hangs out with Björn — which is maybe a bit embarrassing for him. Sigurd doesn't like parties or big social gatherings, as he feels most people end up invading his personal space, thus making him uncomfortable. Also, his social battery runs out extremely fast. While he prefers to keep to himself, he has a strange kind of charm that draws people to him.

With such a massive coastline, Sigurd sees the Atlantic as his home and has good relations with fellow Atlantic nations. He has traveled far and wide, and generally, the Commonwealth countries have been friendly toward him, often allying with him on various matters. He sometimes goes on skiing trips with Switzerland, Liechtenstein, or Austria, as they bond over mountains and ski-related sports. They get along surprisingly well, as long as Sigurd’s silence doesn’t bother them. New Zealand is another outdoor enthusiast Sigurd gets along with — an unlikely friend from the other side of the globe.

Sigurd is usually the first to point out that Björn and Magnus have gotten old and aren't nearly as fun as they used to be. Perhaps he just doesn’t like being reminded of the passage of time or of how comfortably others have settled into ordinary lives. He feels like he’s only just now gotten his own life on track! The idea of having children or getting married doesn’t appeal to him at all. These days, he cherishes his freedom and self-reliance, which he desperately aspired for so long.

Sweden / Björn The core aspect of Sigurd's and Björn's dynamic is the love-hate relationship. They love to annoy the hell out of their söta bror, their sweet brother. They’ll nag each other nonstop and drive one another crazy all day, yet still spend the night talking, braiding each other's hair, and falling asleep in the same bed. At the same time, they constantly mock each other for being copycats, always blaming the other for mimicking their style or stealing their stuff. After all, what’s worse than being constantly compared to your sibling? Björn and Sigurd grew relatively close and spent a lot of time together growing up. They were just as competitive then as they are now; it’s definitely a trait that developed in their childhood. Both had to make do with limited resources, so competition was sometimes necessary, maybe even encouraged. Nowadays, they’ll compare anything: who has the better car, the greener yard, more birthday wishes on social media. They never seem to tire of the comparisons, though everyone else around them certainly does. But truthfully, they’d do anything for one another if it came down to it; their nagging is just a weird combination of their love languages. While they complain about the other’s incompetence and lack of brains, they still show up when needed, no questions asked. They just can’t bring themselves to admit they care; it’s too corny, not their style at all. They’ve been in various unions throughout history, though rarely by choice. Those unions have definitely left a mark, and there have been times when their relationship was seriously strained. While Sigurd usually ends up being the voice of reason around Magnus and keeps an eye on him, with Björn, he lets himself be unapologetically bothersome. Björn sometimes calls Sigurd slow and out of touch, like he’s stuck a few centuries behind. Björn can be nitpicky and meticulous, which drives Sigurd crazy. To Sigurd, Björn is a perfectionist who’s always trying to keep up appearances, even during the worst of times. Even now, Björn has a tendency to meddle in other people’s business; Björn might scold Sigurd for how he treats his little brother Eiríkur, but Sigurd will snap back and tell him it’s none of his business. On the flip side, Sigurd’s free-spirited nature and lack of structure drive Björn mad. Sigurd is strong-willed and hard to cooperate with once his mind is set on something. He’s opinionated but keeps things bottled up, which leads to spiteful and inconsiderate behavior when things don’t go his way. His antisocial tendencies and bluntness can be frustrating and even embarrassing for Björn, especially since Björn himself is so conflict-avoidant and tries to keep everyone happy. Despite those unions, however strained, they have created a strange dependency between them. Even when they’re at odds, they try to understand what the other is going through, comforting each other at their worst. Their interests and hobbies are pretty similar, so it’s no surprise they spend so much of their free time together. Neither of them does well in big crowds, and they both deeply appreciate the calm, casual atmosphere they share when it’s just the two of them. They can sit in silence doing nothing, and that’s more than enough. Though Sigurd still occasionally tries to inject a little adventure into his brother’s routine. Nature is their shared escape, and they go hiking, skiing, or kayaking when they can. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Denmark / Magnus Magnus and Sigurd still share a deep emotional bond that's unique to them. They’re able to speak rather openly about their worries and offer each other genuine advice. Magnus relies on Sigurd and holds him in high regard, being the best friend Magnus would trust with his life. Sigurd, on the other hand, doesn’t quite share the same enthusiastic view. He keeps his distance when he can and doesn't always give in to Magnus’s wild proposals. Still, Magnus sees Sigurd as a constant in his life, someone who always has his back, no matter what. Magnus can get lost in his own world at times, forgetting things or getting distracted, so Sigurd ends up following behind to clean up the mess — just as he always has. It annoys Sigurd, but he knows Magnus doesn’t do it out of selfishness, and he’s learned to live with it. Together, Magnus and Sigurd are something of a comedic duo. Magnus's wild schemes test Sigurd's patience every single time and put them on some kind of adventure. Sigurd has learned to say "Magnus, no" almost instinctively to everything, but if nothing else, he keeps an eye to ensure Magnus doesn't get into too much trouble. Whenever Sigurd helps him out of a mess, Magnus showers him with gratitude—until he inevitably drags Sigurd back into his mess again. That’s probably why Magnus instinctively turns to Sigurd with every problem, even when it would make more sense to ask Björn. Only Sigurd seems to know how to talk him down and help him understand even the messiest of situations. Magnus tends to worry on Sigurd’s behalf — a habit Sigurd doesn’t appreciate due to past experiences with Magnus’s more controlling tendencies. But Magnus’s intentions are good; he simply wants to help and offer support. Accepting that help, though, is a real challenge for Sigurd. Magnus knows Sigurd has a tendency to bottle things up and fall into depressive episodes, and it’s something he’s quietly concerned about. He tries to keep Sigurd’s spirits up and remind him of the brighter side of life. They often visit each other’s places, though for entirely different reasons, and as a result, they end up spending a lot of time together. Sigurd often thinks Magnus’s way of doing things is ridiculous — but he gets a good laugh when he puts Magnus on skis or drags him up a mountain, watching him struggle through the harsh winter terrain. Magnus, for his part, is just happy to be entertaining. Sigurd cares about Magnus, too, in his own quiet way. He’s just learned to set boundaries so Magnus doesn’t walk all over him. He knows how much he means to Magnus, so he can’t bring himself to be too cold or dismissive. He’ll help when asked but won’t hesitate to scold Magnus to keep him in check. Magnus knows he wasn’t always the best to Sigurd in the past, so he tends to be pretty laid-back when Sigurd teases or mocks him. As much as Sigurd has had to put up with Magnus, he doesn’t hold a grudge—not even when he easily could. They’ve worked through their past issues more than once and, for the most part, moved on. And no matter how much Sigurd complains about Magnus’s constant presence in his life, he always answers the phone when Magnus calls—and always shows up when asked. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Finland / Timo Sigurd and Timo get along remarkably well, sharing a number of common interests, like winter sports and music, that give them easy ground to bond over. Sigurd is unusually generous with Timo, often lending him gear or bringing him over-the-top gifts, which Magnus and Björn find unfair, as they’re not given such privileges. Sigurd insists that Timo is simply more trustworthy, and he trusts Timo to handle his stuff with care. Sigurd and Timo tend to drift to the sidelines during gatherings, content to sit with a cup of coffee and talk quietly. They have been through similar experiences they can both relate to, and thus far, they haven’t provoked one another too badly, making their friendship rather drama-free. Timo has always admired Sigurd, ever since they were young. There was something distant and mysterious about him that made Timo want to get closer, mimicking Sigurd in little ways, trying to be more like him. That admiration hasn’t really faded; Timo still sees Sigurd as someone effortlessly cool, someone worth looking up to. He follows his lead with almost blind loyalty, always ready to join him on hikes or fishing trips with eager enthusiasm. Sigurd, in turn, finds Timo’s stories amusing and his quiet resilience endearing. They’re not each other’s first pick when it comes to social plans, but when they do spend time together, they genuinely enjoy it. Sigurd appreciates how easy it is to be around Timo, how he laughs at his dry jabs about Björn or follows along with his plans without needing to be convinced. Sometimes, though, Timo’s passivity and eagerness to please clash with Sigurd’s snarkiness and competitive streak. He feels a bit guilty if he's being too sarcastic with him. Timo’s too kind to push back, and more often than not, the sass may go completely over his head. Because of that, Sigurd holds back more than he does with others. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Iceland / Eiríkur Sigurd has never been good at parenting or taking responsibility for others, so he has a lot of regrets concerning Eiríkur. He has always known Eiríkur is his brother but has never been able to connect with him. That doesn't mean he doesn't care about the kid, but Sigurd just never found a way to claim that big brother status. They're very similar in nature, but that also means they're both bad at communicating and prefer to keep everything in. Nowadays, Eiríkur sometimes insists on his independence with the same stubborn pride Sigurd once had, insisting he doesn’t need anyone fussing over him. Sigurd respects that space, but his distance can unintentionally reinforce Eiríkur’s fears regarding Sigurd. The irony isn’t lost as each is trying, in their own clumsy way, to protect the other from disappointment. Sigurd's attempt to reclaim their lost bond is sometimes irritating to Eiríkur, even though he knows it shouldn't be. He just has lots of disappointing memories when it comes to his brother, which is the reason for his underlying insecurities between them, like the lingering fear that Sigurd might disappear again, as he has before. On the other hand, Sigurd has always given Eiríkur the freedom Magnus never knew how to give. He took Eiríkur on long trips and taught him necessary life skills that gave him the critical tools to survive on his own. Eiríkur adored Sigurd growing up, always choosing him over anyone else. He used to light up at the mere mention of Sigurd’s name and grew jealous if someone else claimed his brother’s attention. When Eiríkur was nervous or unsure as a child, Sigurd would tell him fantastical stories and restore hope in him, uniting them through their shared love for stories and imagination. When Sigurd was bedridden by the plague, little Eiríkur stood by him. He would sit by his bed, read books, and talk to him, as they'd tell each other stories. Eiríkur could bring Sigurd messages and meals while occasionally spying on Magnus and Björn, reporting back what they were planning. But other days, Sigurd was too ashamed or tired to even let Eiríkur into his room, giving the poor kid mixed signals on what he was supposed to do. Many times, Sigurd's own need for autonomy took precedence over his responsibilities to Eiríkur — desperate attempts to hold on to the few meaningful tasks that gave him a sense of purpose. Sometimes, the choices weren’t even Sigurd’s to make, as orders from above pulled him away. There were days when Eiríkur expected Sigurd to come and visit him, waiting patiently at the harbor, watching every ship that came in, expecting his brother to step off the deck from one of them. But he didn’t. Eventually, Eiríkur learned not to get his hopes up, but the disappointment carved itself into him, leaving a quiet scar that never fully faded. Sigurd feels immense regret for not being there when Eiríkur was small, left alone on a harsh island during his most formative years. But Sigurd was only a teenager himself then. Even if he had been there, he doubts he would’ve been the role model Eiríkur needed. Still, the guilt lingers, and he tries to make up for it in the present. They go camping and fishing when time allows, returning to the wild places where they feel most at ease. Around the campfire, they talk about the past. Eiríkur is endlessly curious about their roots and history, and Sigurd does his best to help, though time has eroded many of his memories. Sigurd wants to make sure his brother has what he needs, that he’s equipped to live better, freer, and more fulfilled than Sigurd ever was. But expressing love has never come easily to him, so instead of words, he keeps buying things for Eiríkur, always asking if he has everything he needs, which Eiríkur insists he does. Both Sigurd and Eiríkur have regrets and disappointments regarding their shared past, but they will always have that unique family bond no one can take away from them. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

England / Arthur Both Sigurd and Arthur are old friends who go way back, bound by years of cooperation. Both are ambitious by nature and aware of what they want, yet not always the best at being emotionally present or vulnerable. In many ways, their similarities make their friendship feel effortless. Sigurd has always seen Arthur as a respectable peer, someone who understands and sees Sigurd’s effort. Over the years, Arthur has supported Sigurd during some of the most difficult periods of his life, offering help when people wouldn’t expect him to. While Arthur has managed to get on many people's wrong sides and people's opinion isn't always favorable of him, Sigurd has gotten rare glimpses of a softer Arthur that very few get to see. They often collaborate closely, especially in matters of work, and there's a warmth to their friendship that shows most in small gestures. Sigurd, for instance, never misses the chance to go all out with Christmas gifts. And while Arthur is often busy and hard to pin down, he never turns down the chance to share a drink with his quiet old friend. However, sometimes Sigurd is faced with an awkward position due to Arthur’s and Eiríkur’s disinterest in one another, as he doesn’t want to seem like he’s siding with one over the other. Arthur and Eiríkur just don't really get along, but for the sake of Sigurd, they try to at least pretend. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Ireland / Saoirse Saoirse's and Sigurd's histories are deeply intertwined, shaped by tensions and collaborations between their former peers. Saoirse, sharp-tongued and quick-witted, didn’t exactly warm up to the Norseman right away. But even back then, she had a sense of humor that cut through his cold exterior. She also had a fearless spark that challenged him in ways few others could. When he pushed her, she pushed back. When he played rough, she returned the energy with twice the force. Saoirse, too, has always loved storytelling and music, talents that Sigurd has long admired from a distance. Her creativity and charisma drew him in, even if he didn’t always know how to say it. During their time in America, the two reconnected as adults, finding more common ground than before. The noisy rivalry of childhood gave way to a friendship marked by loyalty and a shared determination to survive in a new harsh situation. Nowadays, Saoirse teases Sigurd every now and then, especially when he’s in the presence of Arthur or Alasdair. This is to remind them he’s an old friend of hers too! Unfortunately, Saoirse has a knack for sniffing out gossip, so Sigurd has to keep his guard up around her to make sure his secrets stay buried, for now. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Scotland / Alasdair Alasdair and Sigurd have known each other for as long as either of them can remember. From the very beginning, their relationship was shaped by the tensions from deep-rooted rivalries. First impressions were tainted by prejudice but also riddled by a persistent curiosity. As children, they played together despite the tension — sometimes too rough, ending in scratches and one of them running off in tears. And yet, no matter how many times they separated, that pull toward one another never quite faded.  In those early days, Sigurd was bolder, at times impossible to handle. A menace in the eyes of many, especially during the chaos of the Middle Ages. Alasdair, by contrast, was already brimming with pride and an unshakable sense of confidence, always standing tall even when others tried to cut him down. His fierce spirit and charisma fascinated Sigurd, while Alasdair was equally intrigued by Sigurd’s mysteriousness. But Sigurd's path got complicated. Tied down by the demands of centralized rule and weakened by the plague, he found himself trapped within constraining unions and a loss of influence that left him weak and apathetic. During the Kalmar Union, his failing health and desperation to retain a sliver of autonomy left him too afraid to meet many of his peers, feeling like a shadow of his former self. And yet, when Alasdair reappeared in his life, something shifted. The Scot’s energy offered Sigurd comfort and relief, giving him a brief escapism from his state. In another timeline, perhaps they would have worked together more, built something lasting through alliances, but history had other plans. Even when political duties kept them apart, they remained close via handwritten letters, with something unspoken lingering between them. During occasional meetings, whether by trade or diplomatic visits, their connection only deepened. A quiet, persistent yearning began to take root, romantic in nature but carefully concealed beneath layers of duty, uncertainty, and timing that never quite lined up. It wasn’t until the 19th century that they found themselves drawn together again — both of them older, hardened by experience. Sigurd, now part of yet another union, was fighting more fiercely than ever to carve out his independence, while Alasdair was navigating his own path through the tides of industrialization and being more tightly cooperative (or controlled) through his siblings. The two of them crossed paths more frequently, and this time, their bond became something unapologetically intimate, though still kept from public view. Their relationship became a quiet rebellion, a way to find solace while being drowned by decisions made above their heads. Neither of them asked for the roles they inherited, but in each other, they found a rare compassion and freedom. Even now, they continue to see one another — no longer as secretive as they once were, but still careful. Their relationship is unconventional, perhaps even unserious to some, but it works. Neither is in a rush to settle down. Sometimes, they both wish history had been kinder to them. But then again, they've never let fate stop them from trying. After all, it’s a rare privilege to love someone since childhood and still have eternity to figure it all out.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

[thistlerock]

Was thinking about Fabian and Riz a lot. I love them they make me sick. Thought I'd share cause I'm not finishing any fics ever lmao.

Side note; in the beautiful kingdom of my mind both of these guys are aromantic (though Fabian is super romance positive) and these interactions are (queer)platonic to me. But hey read it however you want.

I want half asleep Fabian at a sleepover with The Ball, listening to him rant about his newest case, or schoolwork, or whatever he's working himself up about this time. But it's like three am and Riz is so visibly exhausted (and Fabian wants to sleep too! Usually he has a strict schedule, smh) because he's slept a combined five hours in the last three days he goes "You're gonna do great/figure it out, I believe in you. Now shut the fuck up and go to sleep." And it's like. Not even a conscious thing he just instinctively gives The Ball a bardic. Riz feels it. Pauses. Blinks. Smiles. "That's not gonna last until tomorrow." In the SOFTEST voice do you understand. "Then I'll just give you a new one when you need it." And he says it in this tone that makes Riz feel like throwing up (positive) because it sound as if it were obvious — and it is. There's something deeply comforting about the absolute confidence that half-asleep Fabian has in the fact that yeah, tomorrow and the day after that and for however long it takes they will still be friends. And close. And Fabian will still believe in him.

And then Riz lets himself be dragged into bed (they share because if you both have sleep related trauma and the worst abandonment issues ever then you have to cuddle with the homies for comfort.)

I want Fabian and Riz very very non sexually sharing a shower. Maybe they just got back from an adventuring assignment, and Riz is caked in dirt and maybe a little bit of dried blood, and Fabian uses the opportunity for what it is. "Can I do your hair again? I'll wash it." "Sure." (I think it's curly and he doesn't really. Treat it like you're supposed to. Fabian is the only reason it's kinda gotten better. Riz doesn't care that much but he like, indulges him. Cause for some reason Fabian seems to think it's a big deal.) (and it IS. Hair care IS a big deal to Fabian. Separate post I'm insane about him.) And next thing Riz knows he's sitting in his best friend's fancy bathroom and there's expensive smelling product in his hair and he's naked but Fabian isn't being weird about it, he's just scrubbing dirt off of his back because he totally lied when he said it's just about the hair. The Ball doesn't super take care of himself so Fabian jumps at any opportunity to get in there. And it's. Nice. Acts of service are a whole thing. I think for Fabian that's the love language that feels the most foreign, I think it's been so hard for him to unlearn selfishness and bluster even partially, I think he tries. I think he does this thing for his best friend because he loves him, and he expects nothing in return — not even praise. Not even praise even though that's the one thing he's always angling for. And they're both so quiet. And the water is warm.

I want Fabian waking up after a party with the worst hangover. Skull splitting open I want to die type hangover. I want him to wonder, idly, if his mother is going to come and drag him out to train anyway. It'd be dreadful, and yet he desperately wishes she would, because that'd mean she's invested in his training and would have to make an active effort to spend time with him rather than the other way around. I want him to be a little disappointed because he knows it won't happen. I want his heart to ache. But then "Oh, are you awake?" and his best friend is sitting at the end of his bed. Watching him with concern, lowering his voice because he figures Fabian is sensitive right now, having closed the curtains and stuff for the same reason, already offering him water and pain killers. All that. Just because.

"Why are you still here, The Ball?" "Why wouldn't I be? I promised to stay." Because last night Fabian, after being dragged to bed by a concerned Riz and halfway through a mental breakdown (because hey. Turns out he shouldn't have smoked whatever Durden was offering after already being so fucking drunk his body is not having a good time) begged his friend not to leave. So he didn't. In fact Riz stayed with him in bed for hours, holding him because he seemed like he'd need it, but he got antsy some time in the morning and had to get up. And he's sorry for that! But he didn't leave. "Not leaving" is kind of a vague promise he wasn't sure of the exact ramifications but like he stayed in the room until he had to piss- woah Fabian why do you look like you're about to cry did I say something wrong.

Like that. I want that. I want them to love each other so much. Something about non-sexual physical intimacy always gets me. Okay. Oh to have the kind of love that's familiar and comfortable and doesn't come with any expectations. Oh to have a friendship that doesn't have to be "more" because it's already everything. Who decided romance is "more" anyway. Throwing up. I am so ill about them.

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober 21

Kink: Body Worship

Sweet Thing

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x F!curvy!reader

Warnings/tags: SMUT, insecurities, talk of weight/stretch marks/body rolls (all beautiful and sexy might I add), crying (not during sex!!), use of pet names (pumpkin, sweetness, goddess, baby, princess, sugar plum - i tried catching all of them lmao), breast/nipple play, oral (f recieving), squirting, thigh fucking (brief), mentions of tit fucking, p-in-v (unprotected - wrap it before you tap it!), slight tummy bulge, creampie, hint of possessiveness (it's Lloyd), allusions to punishment :)

Not beta'd and that's a warning. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. And as always, MDNI!

Summary: Feeling a little self-conscious, your boyfriend decides to show you just how much he loves your body.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Hello! I know it is slightly out of character for Lloyd but I thought to heck with it - let's have a little sugar to go with all this spice and all things nice. Originally, my plan was for a beefy/chubby Bucky but I'm saving it to post on another day because as I was writing I found myself wanting to do it justice. I am slowly crawling out of my 100+ drafts .... emphasis on slowly. Enjoy! - Love, Grem x

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

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You're looking in the mirror, stood in your underwear. You thought putting something nice would cheer you up but you just feel worse.

You grab at the soft flesh hanging over your pubic bone. What had someone called it? Fupa? Was it as attractive as people said? Because, right now, the only words you could remember were tyre, spare, top and muffin; and not necessarily in that order.

You huff, and turn to the side, your eyes narrowing as you catch sight of chubby biceps that you can't stand, then your eyes drift to the soft rolls that rest below your shoulder blades and above your hips. Perhaps you should make more of an effort to work out. Maybe not make so many baked goods. Maybe not eat so many sweet treats your boyfriend brings you, either.

But you love those sweet treats.

You can feel tears well and you sniff trying to fight them back but when your eyes drop lower, seeing silver and purple jagged stripes that run over the curves over hips and thighs, your tears flow freely.

You wipe at your face with your palms, careful to not smudge the mascara and eyeliner you'd so carefully painted on. This was not how you wanted your day to go. You wanted to dress in cute lingerie to surprise your sexy, moustachioed man... not cry over your pudge.

The slam of the front door startles you and you hurriedly sniff and fix your make up in the mirror. You didn't want Lloyd seeing you like this; today was not the day for feeling sorry for yourself.

"Sweetcheeks!" Lloyd calls, voice echoing down the halls.

"'M up here!" You call back, voice wavering more than you'd like. You clear your throat as Lloyd's heavy footsteps climb the stairs and when the bedroom door swings open, you try to give him a beaming smile.

Lloyd, as usual, comes bearing gifts. He holds a tray of expensive chocolates in one palm, grinning ear to ear, looking particularly delectable in his black turtleneck and slacks. He throws the box of chocolates onto the bed, striding towards you to wrap his arms around you and kiss along your exposed neck. You shiver in response and try to fight the urge to curl into him and feel sorry for yourself.

"How's my pumpkin today?" He murmurs, pulling back to give you a once over. "And what a nice surprise this is."

You give him a quivering smile but Lloyd sees through it immediately, eyes narrowing when he sees the redness of your waterline.

"Sweetness?"

You can't fight it anymore. More tears bubble up as you look up at Lloyd and your voice rises to that annoyingly choked tone as you speak.

"I just feel awful." You attempt to explain, wiping at your eyes with a sniff. "I just-"

Hate the way I look.

Your half glance at the mirror makes Lloyd add two and two, and he squeezes you that little but tighter.

"Oh, honey. You've got a body made to be worshipped." He murmurs against your skin, his moustache tickling across your shoulders as he showers you with light kisses. His blue eyes sparkle when they meet yours in the reflection of the mirror. "In fact, let me."

"Let you what?" You ask, trying to twist your head to chase his lips.

"Worship you."

Heat burns through your veins, arousal pooling immediatelyat the suggestion and you nod bashfully against his chest; your cheeks rouged and burning.

Before you can blink, Lloyd sinks to his knees before you, looking up at you with a smirk. His hands grip the plump flesh of your ass, making you squeak.

His adoring gaze drops to your stomach, kissing from your belly button all the way down to your clothed sex. You shiver, despite the heat you feel, and you watch Lloyd remove your lace panties delicately; letting you step out of them instead of ripping them away from you (for once).

Once your cunt is bared to him, he wastes no time in tasting you; his tongue dragging along your slit, circling your bundle of nerves teasingly before taking it fully into is mouth and sucking gently. You gasp and make an attempt to step back but Lloyd’s large hands squeeze the rounds of your ass again and pull you back to his mouth. He hums around your clit sending electric vibrations up your spine and you sigh with waning trepidation and rising arousal, running a hand through his short hair as he continues to bury his face between your legs.

"Your pussy always tastes so sweet," he sighs, lapping at your folds hungrily. "My sweet thing. My favourite thing to eat."

After what feels like an age, when you're mewling loudly with pleasure and steuggling to stand still, Lloyd pulls back and takes a satisfying breath. His moustache and lips glisten with your arousal and you can't help the throb of your pussy at how he looks right now; eyes blown, smirking beneath you, the outline of his hard cock visible in his slacks.

"Lay on the bed, gumdrop." Even though his tone is soft you can still hear the commanding edge underneath his panting and obey diligently. You lie back, watching as Lloyd abandons his clothes hurriedly to join you on the bed. You can taste yourself on his lips and moustache when you kiss him, and it drives you wild.

"You're built like a damn goddess, baby." He praises voice low. "And you're all mine."

Your heart thuds at his words but when you move to kiss him again Lloyd dodges you, opting instead to kiss down your neck, tugging your bra straps down you shoulders so he can free your tits without wasting time trying to remove your bra. The moment your tits are free from the skimpy lace, Lloyd’s mouth is on them, pressing them hard against eachother so he can suck both hardened nipples at once.

"Oh shit," You huff out. Your head leans into your pillow, your legs writhing with pleasure as Lloyd teases your nipples with his tongue the same way he toyed with your clit. Your core aches for a moment and, as if he had a sixth sense, Lloyd releases one hand to swipe his fingers at your folds before two of them plunge into your needy hole. "Lloyd!"

You can feel Lloyd smile around the breast he hadn't freed as he curls and pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy with intent. His teeth graze over your nipple as he moves to focus on the other he carelessly abandoned. You can feel your pussy begin to pulse as you moan and cling desperately to Lloyd, who doesn't let up for a moment, even when you start chanting his name.

"C'mon sweetness," He presses, swiping his thumb over your clit. "Give me what I want."

You cum with a cry, gushing over his fingers and soaking your thighs. Your brain goes fuzzy but you can hear Lloyd’s voice echoing praises as he prolongs your orgasm by drawing tight circles on your clit. You're vaguely aware of him moving away to slot between your legs, lifting them onto his left shoulder before yanking your hips downwards so your ass is against his strong thighs.

"See? Perfect hips to hold you in place when I eat you out. And they're just as good when I fuck you." Lloyd rumbles and you groan when you feel his cock press against the back of your wet thighs. He pushes his hips against your soft flesh, holding your legs against his chest as his cock slides between your thighs easily.

You both watch in awe as he fucks your slick thighs. After a few slow thrusts you can feel the sticky heat of Lloyd’s pre-cum coat the insides of your thighs and you squeeze them involuntarily, making Lloyd tip his head back and groan.

"Youre so perfect." He murmurs, blue eyes half-lidded in pleasure as he looks down at you. "My slice of heaven."

Lloyd takes your left ankle and moves it to his right shoulder, spreading your legs into the perfect v-shape. His arm wraps over your thigh, taking the tip of his cock and running it up your slick folds before tapping it against your clit.

"Fuckin' feel how hard I am for you, princess? Fuck."

You whimper in response and wiggle your hips in an attempt to get even closer to him. Lloyd drags his cock downward to align himself before giving you a quick smirk.

"Watch how well your pretty hole takes me, honey." He purrs, slowly pushing into you. Your eyes flutter as you feel every inch of him sink into you, chest heaving as Lloyd’s saliva grows cold over your tits. "Like you were made for me."

Lloyd’s movements languid at first; one strong hand gripping your right ankle, the other pushing down on your pubic bone so you can feel every drag of his cock against your walls. You whine out his name but he only presses lingering kisses to your calf in response, seemingly intent on not being rushed.

Lloyd sighs softly bottoming out inside of your pussy and, moving his hand on your pubic bone downward, swipes at your clit with his thumb again.

"Fuck, Lloyd," you gasp at him, your arms reaching for him. However, you drop them in favour of the sheets when Lloyd’s hips start to rock against yours at pace, biting back more moans.

"Look at this perfect body - taking my cock so fuckin' good." Lloyd growls, rutting into you. "Those hips, those thighs and - God - your perfect tight cunt..." Lloyd’s eyes glaze over as you constrict his cock, biting your lip sweetly up at him.

"And those tits," he groans, watching how they bounce as his thrusts become harder and more erratic. "Can't wait to fuck 'em too."

"Please," You pant arching your back off the bed. You can feel the tightness in your core about to snap, and Lloyd’s thumb on your clit is making you see stars. "Lloyd I'm gonna-"

"I know," Lloyd chuckles. "I'm not gonna deny my goddess anything. You can cum."

Your orgasm washes over you and you coat Lloyd’s cock with your cum, the legs on his shoulders quivering and you curse breathlessly. The wet sounds of Lloyd’s balls smacking against your sopping cunt and his growls of pleasure let you know he's not far behind. Your walls flutter and grip at his length, milking him for a few more strokes until he paints your insides with his cum.

His hair is slightly dishevelled and there's a sheen of sweat clinging to you both. It takes a few moments of heavy breathing for you both to regain some sort of consciousness but it's Lloyd who speaks first.

"My Aphrodite," he purrs. "All red faced and fucked out."

Even though he's acting smug, clearly proud of the state he's left you in, his eyes twinkle with that same loving gaze you'd taken note of earlier. Your heart swells and you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion sticking to your throat and making tears well once more, this time for another reason entirely. Lloyd looks a little surprised but when you reach for him, breaking into a happy grin, he sighs with relief and leans down into your arms. You giggle when you feel him kiss at your skin softly, his moustache tickling you yet again.

"Love you," you murmur, kissing his forehead your arms crossing around his neck.

"Love you too, gumdrop." Lloyd rumbles, squeezing your breast again making you gasp.

"Hey! That's not-" You're cut off as Lloyd tweaks your hardening nipple and you keen into his neck.

"Glad you're feeling better but I won't have anyone make my sugar plum cry." He says lowly, his eyes darkening. "And that includes you."

Your eyes grow wide your heart rate skyrocketing as Lloyd smirks down at you once more.

"I think punishment may be in order."

[verifiedgoddess-afterhours]

10K ~ Z Nation Headcanons (pt 2!)

(guys omg this cutie patootie i'm dying)

General:

Loves the sound of rain. Idk, he just looks like a rain lover. Like the sound would comfort him, probably reminds him of a simpler time before the apocalypse

ADORES kids.

Would love some of his own, but doesn't want to bring them into an apocalyptic world because he would hate to cause them pain like that.

Repeats his Z count to himself so he doesn't forget

If he had access to Spotify or music, would listen to things like Greta Van Fleet, Pink Floyd, Queen,

Speaking of Queen: his favorite song by them is totally Good Ol' Fashioned Loverboy

Is a surprisingly good singer! Sometimes if you were quiet on the road and paid attention, you could catch tiny snippets of him humming a tune while scavenging

At least when he thinks nobody is listening to him lol

Barely sleeps at night - is too worried about being snuck up on to sleep well.

Also, gets nightmares pretty frequently. To calm himself down after a nightmare he'd probably get up and clean his gun, really taking his time to take it apart and make sure he got every speck of dust.

Remember when Addy mentioned in that one episode that 10K did her eyebrows and she does his?(sometime in season two) - ever since she started doing his, he gets grouchy when his start to look unkept.

Addy also taught him tons of random facts about girls' hygiene - I wouldn't be surprised if he knew how to do eyeliner flawlessly or knew to put on SPF before foundation, etc.

Speaking of, if he ever found pads/tampons/etc, would 100% stow them away just in case Addy or someone else needs them.

When he scavenges, he always looks for other people besides himself. Once he gets his ammo, he's happy. Then he looks for everyone else - a pair of new sunglasses Doc might like, snacks for Addy, or bandanas for Warren.

Is actually very conscious about how he dresses! not even just for practicality's sake, but enjoys putting together outfits that look nice.

Even if the only people who see them are zombies, he still likes to look good. It make him feel more in control of his life instead of afraid for it.

Romantic:

teehee i am giggling already hahaha

He is a soulmate kind of guy. His parents had a loving marriage and he could only ever see himself being with one person. Once he's in, he's in until zombie bite do you part.

Puts in a ton of effort to make the apocalypse better for his partner. Whether that be taking watch so they can sleep or giving them the good gear, he's doing it.

Love language = Acts of Service and Physical Touch(prove me wrong)

Murphy teases him endlessly about it and he gets sooo flustered, but never denies it. He would rather endure all of Murphy's teasing(no matter how much it pissed him off) than ever entertain the idea of lying and pretending he doesn't care as much about his partner

At any sign of injury or illness, he's by their side. Picking edible plants to use for tea to treat ailments, going scavenging for supplies, protecting them if they can't do it themselves - he is looking after them!

If you tell him your favorite food, then he's going out to try and get it. Even if it means using up more ammo to find it - he cares that much.

Once he figures out what makes his crush laugh, he goes out of his way to do it. Tripping over a root? Yep, he'll take the bruises just to see you smile. Cracking jokes at Murphy's expense? He's loves doing that anyways - you laughing is just a bonus.

Eventually, after he's been with someone a while, he gets more bold

His flirting gets better and LOVES to fluster his partner to see the cute little blush on their cheeks.

His version of flirting(until you teach him otherwise) is definitely teasing, playful bullying, etc.

And somehow, it works.

Is totally clueless to how beautiful he is. If you call him pretty boy, he's denying it because he doesn't realize how gorgeous he is to you

So you have to show him

Will call his lover pretty or handsome ALL. THE. TIME. Even if you are covered in zombie guts, haven't showered in three years, you're still the best-looking person around for him to look at.

Would purposefully take watch to make sure he gets alone time with you

Is chatty, but not all the time. Sometimes he loves just sitting and enjoying your company, your hands intertwined as everyone else sleeps.

Has a plan of your future together. What you all need to live a comfortable life, where he thinks you might find it, where you should go, etc. He wants your future to be safe enough to just enjoy each other's company without fearing for your lives.

Loves showering with you in the least sexual way possible(although... jkjk). You're his and he is yours, and he loves taking care of you and being taken care of like that.

Spicy:

I've said this before and I'll say it again: he is LOUD. Often has to cover his mouth with his hand or bite down on something(aka: you) to keep from everyone hearing.

Has so many weapons on him that sometimes he gets frustrated having to take it all off that he just... doesn't. Just gets his pants loose enough and then absolutely ravishes you.

Giggles the entire day after

Which means of course everyone knows about it and teases him endlessly.

Is scared of being rough with you until he realizes how much you love it, then changes his mind.

You guys typically don't have tons of time - unless you're extremely lucky - but when you do, he will take literal hours to coax it out of both of you before you call it a night.

this man is a SWITCH

Likes to be in control, but is definitely a gentle dom. He'll give you commands in a low tone, his hands firm as they guide you but always full of care.

HOWEVER, once he truly trusts you he'll do anything you say whenever you say it. One word and he's on his knees, staring up at you with wide blue eyes as he waits.

Likes being called a good boy(OOP who said that???)

Once you guys start experimenting, he can't stop. Has let you ruin so many of his bandanas tying him up(using knots he taught you) and making him fall apart.

Speaking of experimenting: not that he wouldn't love any kind of intimacy y'all have, but would try to see what was left in sex stores along your travels to spice things up a bit - loves everything he finds even if he isn't sure at first.

Eye contact the entire time... except for when he has to burrow his face in your neck to keep from being too loud(he fails)

Purposefully wears his goggles while y'all do it so you can tug them around his neck, reminding him that you're in charge. It gives him a little thrill.

Begs nonsensically the closer he gets to cumming. Words just spill out and tears gather on his lashes as he babbles anything that comes to mind(heh, see what i did there?)

Once he discovers how much 'yes ma'am' or 'yes sir' turns you on, he used that cruelly to his advantage at the best - and worst - times

[mayuichi]

“You want to spend our money on... that?„

Scaramouche x Reader. No warning. No real distinction in between Scaramouche and Wanderer here, I usually both call them Scaramouche so...

Official art from Genshin Impact.

Walking around Inazuma, he kept mumbling in annoyance to the reason you both are here. A huge part of it is your fault, for wanting to go in vacation there. He kept refusing until Nahida chimed in.

“You should, though. It'd be a good way to relax and see your homeland.„ were her exact words. But none of you expected it to be so crowded in early December.

Which is why he is pissed off now. He glanced over you, taking your hand in a possessive gesture. Or perhaps he was scared you'd lose yourself. In any case, you appreciated it.

Hurrying you in a quiet street, he sighed and turned to you. “When will we go back to the hotel? I'm tired of hearing people.„ he frowned when you rolled your eyes.

You wanted to tell him you weren't about to go home yet, since there was so much you wanted to see. “Not soon. Plus, Nahida asked-„

Your words faded in your mind when you realized how he got closer to you, his nose practically touching yours. At your sudden silence, he smirked and cupped your chin. “Nahida what ? Go on. Don't mind my closeness.„

He enjoyed seeing you at a lost of words, and you knew this. Yet, you gulped. “Nahida... She asked for... For a souvenir... You know..?„

He didn't answered, instead, he caressed your cheek with his thumb. You became self conscious of your flushed cheeks and tried to look away.

“Don't look away, idiot. Keep your eyes on me.„ but you couldn't. So he chuckled and pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, as he squeezed you tightly against him.

He craved for you, you knew it. He was so possessive, so jealous over every little thing. but he took care of you and protected you. You had to gently push him away so you could catch your breath. It made him laugh to see your pathetic expression now.

“I'll make an effort, just for you. But you better repay me when we'll be alone, got it?„ he winked, and it made your state worst. You nudged against him. You took a deep breath and took his hand.

Going back in the busy streets, there was plenty your wanted to buy, but yet, you couldn't just get everything. You may have saved a lot of moras for this, it'd be way too expensive.

You let yourself some time to think, and instead decided to buy Nahida her souvenir. Perhaps a mug would be fine... But it wasn't really something you wanted to give her.

Wondering what you could offer her, your eyes spotted a stand a little left out, with a huge amount of snow globes. You rushed over to inspect all of them. They were all so adorable.

To more classic ones with just a few trees, to some villages, forest animals or just snowmen. There was so many interesting you. You called out for Scaramouche, making him come near you.

When he saw those snow globes, he raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You want to spend our money on... that?„ he found little to no interest in it. He couldn't believe that's what you were into.

Yet, when you made those sad puppy eyes, he sighed and crossed his arms. “... Fine, but stop looking so sad. How many do you want?„

He would've slapped you when you almost yelled you wanted them all. If you weren't his lover, he would've definitely did. But he cared and couldn't let you be hurt.

So he just shook his head in disappointment; yet that was the whole reason why he loved you. So it wasn't so bad. He wasn't truly disappointed and you knew it.

He took out his wallet and paid for it all, carrying the bag as he walked off with you. He squeezed your hand gently, walking across the streets as he leaned to whisper.

“You better repay me tonight if you don't want to get punished.„

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuichi's property. do not repost, copy or translate without permission.

[soft-persephone]

I won’t be home for Christmas (Another Intentional Accident)

Lots of kisses and fluff // masterlist // WC: 2.7k

AN: Happy Holidays! I hope you all enjoy!

Nick was nervous.

He hadn’t done a clean shave since he started dating you. He wasn’t the most self conscious man in the world. As long as he and his clothes were clean and comfortable, he didn’t worry about it what he looked like too much.

But women were diffierent. Especially the ones you were in a relationship with.

Even if he didn’t care, they most oftentimes did. Caroline sure as hell did. He always ended up trying harder for her. Wearing certain shirts for her, ironing them more often than he would, not because he wanted to, but because he wanted to avoid the fight she’d most likely cause over it if he didn’t.

You made a comment if his shirt was dirty or if it had a hole in it, but you never pushed for him to wear anything that made him uncomfortable. In fact, you had a knack for buying him better versions of things he already liked.

For his birthday, you had brought him a more durable, expensive, maroon hoodie! The fabric was so damn buttery soft and it was heavy in the way expensive clothes were!

You were just amazing like that.

So, in an effort to remain the best boyfriend ever, he planned to surprise you a week before Christmas.

He invited a few of your close friends, and Winston, but that was only because they’d both have to drive over to Chicago in a few days so they’d make it home. That way, he also wouldn’t have to worry about missing a flight. They’d made the drive before when they were younger more than a few times, so it wansnt a big deal.

“Do you even have a key Nick?” Winston huffed.

“How are we supposed to get in? What kind of surprise is this?”

Nick proceeded to ignore Winston’s comment and open the door.

“Nick!” Natalie squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Hey, Natalie.” Nick laughed through his nose with a soft huff, putting on just as gentle of a polite smile.

All your friends were so touchy. It made sense because so were you. You always locked your arms with his on a walk. Opted to hold his hand whenever possible. If his face itched, you beat him to it, scratching the spot for him, insisting that your nails made a more satisfying scratch.

You loved his beard.

Placing your face against his if he wanted to show you something, whether he was pointing at something in public, showing you something on his phone or laptop, you stood as close as possible, placing your cheek on his. You always lingered just a moment longer, smiling against his face as you pulled his lips to match.

He knows he can’t kiss without touching your face in some way, or pulling you by your neck to come closer, but you couldn’t kiss him without kissing him everywhere. Every corner of his checks and down along the stubble or hairs on his neck.

Which is the main source of his nervousness today, he shaved his face!

His mom wasn’t always fond of his facial hair, claiming it ruined pictures and he was hiding his beautiful face.

But what if you didn’t like him without his beard? What if you started acting funny or stopped touching him?

He didn’t grow up in a touchy feely household.

He can count the number of times his father hugged him by hand. After a certain age, especially after his father left, he remembers his mom telling him he had to be a big boy. That he had to be brave and strong and be the man of the house now. That he had to look after her and his brother from now on.

Most of the hugs he ever had in life were from Jaime. Making sure he was alright or he didn’t cry too much in school, so he wouldn’t get beat up for it.

He liked your little touches. He liked how you couldn’t do anything or be near him without touching his shoulder or rubbing at his back at least once before passing by.

“Did you bring everything Nick?” Careesha asked, before enveloping him in a similar embrace and placing a warm cup of hot chocolate in his hand.

“I did!” He nodded and raised the wrapped gift for you in his hand.

“Perfect!” He watched as Natalie and Careesha jumped around and squealed with delight. You and your friends were definitely three of a kind.

“How’s work?”

“Any plans for the holidays?”

“Are you sure either of you aren’t going to bite the bullet and take the other hook for the holidays?”

“Reesha,” Natalie deadpanned, “no one’s trying to be like you and Xaviar anytime soon.”

“You don’t know what they want! They might! It’s their decision!” Reesha huffed through puffed cheeks.

“I don’t know what our future looks like right now,” Nick started with a hand on the back of his neck, “but I do know I’m gonna miss her while I’m home for Christmas.”

“Ugh, you guys are making me sick. I’m going to find more whisky for my hot coco.” Winston scoffed and headed off to the kitchen.

Nick sighed, “please, excuse my friend, Winston Bishop.” He briefly introduced, “his girlfriend dumped him before we flew out here.”

They shared a look and a couple of awkward smiles.

“Eek,” Natalie squeezed, “she’s almost here!”

Nicks eyebrows scrunched in confusion, “how do you know? Did she text or something?”

“No, I just checked her location.”

“From what?” Nick blinked.

A strange feeling started churning in his belly.

“Oh yeah,” Careesha nodded, “Nick isn’t a smart phone guy, remember? She said he likes to stay unplugged and grounded in reality?” She looked at him with a questioning smile.

“Uh, yeah.” Nick licked his lips, “something like that.”

Is that what you were telling your friends? You left out his distaste and constant distrust for the government and his fear of data tracking as well as the impending doom of mankind for choosing convenience over old fashioned know-how and basic human companionship. Also the death of community and togetherness in America and most likely the world. . . But that was fine.

Your version means less questions and arguments he’d have with everyone. You truly were a gift.

“There’s a find my iPhone app, you can share your location with certain friends, so now we can always know where each other are.”

Nick swallowed and tried not to grit his teeth.

He spends a lot of time with you.

If your friends are always tracking you, And that app is always tracking you, the government and who knows else is also tracking you! That means they are also tracking him! They probably listen too!

All those conversations he’d had with you. .

How many people know about—

The doorbell rang.

Nick’s anger was quickly buried with a wave of joy.

You were here!

“Okay, mama, I’ll call you later.”

Nick stuffed his hands in his pockets and bounced on his heels to stay quiet.

“Wha—“

“Surprise!”

“Winston!”

“Oh my god,” He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you. “That girl that Nick’s been laying around with!” He fake gasped.

“Shut up,” you hugged him back with a smile, “I know you know my name.”

“Fuck, Winston,” Nick pulled you into his chest by your arm, “what about me huh? Your actual boyfriend?”

He firmly gripped your cheeks with one hand, playfully squeezing a little tighter and letting go. His smile wavered a bit. Your cheeks were cold. You had no scarf, or hat. . .

Fuck. . .

You were about as dumb as he was.

“Where’s your hat? Or scarf? Anything?” He fussed over you. As he helped you take your coat off, he rubbed the material in his hands.

This coat wasn’t thick enough.

And it’s fucking windy as hell and you don’t even have a scarf or hat. No gloves or mittens either!

“I’ll be alright.” You smiled.

Still holding onto your cheeks, he pulled you in for a kiss. Not failing to slip his tongue inside. He needed to taste you, feel your mouth on his, and commit the warm plushness of your lips and every corner of your mouth to memory before he leaves.

“No, it’s not.” He broke the kiss, speaking lowly in your face. His tone making butterflies in your stomach.

You couldn’t really speak, your chest puffed up and down, breathless from the kiss as well as the air and the cold. Perhaps he was right, but you had no idea where to shop for warm things or what makes a coat warmer compared to others. What day do you wear a hat or gloves or neither?

He brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“You know what I thought of all winter?” You shook your head, opting only to smile at him with your lips slightly parted. If you kept looking at him like that, he swore he was going to kiss you again, “whether your coat was warm enough? Did you have the right gloves? Did you remember what to do to your car the night before? Praying, that ice wouldn’t be on the road on the days you have to drive to work.”

“I know,” you placed a hand on top of his, rubbing at his fingers while his kept brushing your cheek, “I’m trying. I really am.”

You were listening to him, but from how wide and glossy your eyes were, he knew you weren’t, not really.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Because you're starting and you're half listening to me.” He laughed which made you laugh too.

“You shaved.” You placed your hands on his cheek now, and he couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious. You’re standing so close to one another, and now you're both holding onto each other's faces like a couple of idiots, lovesick idiots in puppy love.

He’d rather have done this alone now. Without an audience.

“I like it.” You grinned.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t help the hope that tinged his voice.

“Yeah!” You kissed him again. Slowly, and thoroughly, so tender and soft. Leaving him to bask in the feeling. He always lost track of time and every moment when you were leading a kiss. Nothing and everything felt so intense at the same time. “I’m still going to miss your beard but this is. . Different! In a good way!”

“Really?” Now it felt like you were laying it on a bit thick.

“It’s like,” you weren’t looking at him now. Your eyes dart wildly at everything before choosing to look down. He lifted your face with a finger, making you laugh dotly in his face. The feeling of it danced across his nose and cheeks. “It makes everything warmer.. hotter. It feels like everything is even closer than before. Like, I’m really feeling all of you.”

He kissed you again. Harder than before.

Not caring about who's around or who’s in the room.

And there it was.

Without the scratch of his beard you felt all of him. The heat of his cheeks on yours. You could actually feel all of the kiss and not be distracted by the scratchy feeling. You could focus on how hot and wet his mouth is. The way his tongue swept across yours, leaving you with no choice but to follow his pace. To allow him to consume every part of you. Leaving a strong want and desire to flood your senses.

“Alright, you two are seriously killing the vibe.”

“Oh,” you heaved with a smile, “hey Winston.”

Winston gave a fake smile before frowning.

“Wrap it up you two. You can have sex later.”

“Speaking of,” Nick started, “I got you something.”

Nick handed you a present wrapped in Newspaper. It had a bow made out of industrial rope.

“You're so environmentally conscious.” You smiled as you unwrapped the gift.

“If you mean cheap, with the best repurposing skills you’ve ever seen, I’ll take it.”

“Oh, Nick.” You smiled. Tears budded at your eyes. You didn’t have time to laugh at his joke before seeing what he had gotten you.

It was a giant cream wool and cashmere scarf, and a matching hat that was lined with silk.

They were so warm.

“Nick you shouldn’t have.” You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.

“And let you freeze to death when I’m not around?” He scoffed with a smile. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay, enough!” Natalie shoved Nick to the side and hugged you. “We’ve let you two have your moment long enough. There’s a room full of people that love you too!”

Everyone had a great time.

Winston got a little crazy after having to draw 4, four times in a row. Careesha claimed you were cheating, after you won three times in a row, but shenanigans aside, it was amazing. Neither of you would have changed this night for anything else in the world.

Nick went out to the balcony.

He imagined you having a small quiet time out here, in the morning time before you went to work.

“What are you doing out here?” You had put on the scarf and hat the moment you opened it.

You had your coat on now.

Not being able to help himself. He paws at the scarf on your necks maneuvering it in a way where it covers your head and your neck.

“Better?” He smiled.

“Oh my goodness you're a winter genius!”

“Well I was born and raised in Chicago.” He took the other cup of hot chocolate out fontour hand that you brought out for him.

“This spiked stuff is good.”

“Really?” Your eyes sparkled at him and he laughed.

“Absolutely,” he took another sip, “it’s the right amount of whiskey to coco and milk or whatever you used. All the proportions taste right.”

“It’s my recipe!” You beamed at him. “It’s the perfect amino of whisky, a little Baileys, and then regular hot chocolate stuff, but I also chop up some chocolate with the coco powder.”

“It’s so good! You should consider quitting a lawyer and becoming a bartender! I think you’d have a bright future.” He said seriously.

“Well I always wanted to change my career in the middle of all the success and fortune for another one.” You said just as seriously.

You both laughed and he wrapped an arm around you.

You both admired the city lights and falling snow.

Fuck. . . He wasn’t going to make it home for the holidays again. There’s always next year.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his mom’s number.

“Heeey, Ma,” he drawled. Biting back his smile so she couldn’t hear how happy he was, “I missed my flight again.”

He pulled the phone from his ear as she started yelling and asking questions.

“No, everything’s booked up or canceled, now.”

You pinched his cheek, and he bit your finger before you could pull it away. You let out a little scream of a laugh and he had to grab you and cover your mouth, almost making him laugh out loud too!

“Alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll do better next year. . . love you too.”

“Nick—“

“—Let’s spend Christmas together.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes were watery and he kissed away your tears.

“Yeah, you big crybaby,” he smiled and kissed you, “let’s do this. Let’s spend Christmas together. Just the two of us.”

“I’ve never had Christmas without my family before.” You sniffled.

“I know, I know,” he rubbed your shoulders. “We don’t have to if you—“

“—no I do!” You cut him off with a kiss. “I want to spend Christmas with you too!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m a big girl.” He wiped your last tear with his thumb. “I can handle a few days without seeing them.

Nick kissed you one more time.

“What about Winston?” You asked.

“Oh,” Nick blinked. “He probably already left without me.”

You blinked back at him for a moment.

“You're probably right.”

He kissed you again.

“Can you please stop bringing up Winston when I’m kissing you?”

Tags: @notapradagurl7 @megamindsecretlair @headcannonxgalore @cottonpuffmouse @crispysublimecupcake @jellyreblogs @blowmymbackout

First time doing this tag thing. Let me know if you wanna be added I guess💀

[femmefatalevibe]

Hi there femme💌.

Do you have any advice on how to deal with people who judge you for " trying to hard "?

I observed that people who don't pay attention to the way they look, they way they speak, or put any effort into their appearance in general, tend to be judgmental of those who like to look after themselves and look their best. I think this comes from a point of feeling inferior or bad that they don't put much effort into their image, mannerism, persona, so they try to make themselves feel better by dragging others down. Others might really feel like it's a waste of time or money to invest in anything related to clothes, self care , good diet etc, and think they're superior because they Don't waste money.

For example, I wear perfume everyday and I was told that nobody cares about they way I smell so why I'm wasting money on fragrances. I don't do it so others will tell me I smell good, I do it so I can smell my perfume around me. Or that I dress too elegantly when I could just wear some jeans with t shirt and sport shoes.

I'm honestly so tired of this ... and it's not men who told me this , but women. Looking after yourself is seen by some women as trying too hard to get a man's attention, or that it's for your own egocentric desires.

I don't live in the most expensive part of the city and I'm honestly so tired of these people's mentality. Even my coworkers are starting to annoy me because they act rude, they have a "street vocabulary ", are always gossiping and I don't really partake in their discussions, maybe that's why I keep hearing bad things about myself.

Hi love! I completely agree with your observations and insights regarding why people criticize those who take pleasure in diligently curating their appearance for "trying too hard" because it makes them feel self-conscious.

I think it's best to remember that when they say these negative sentiments to you, they're addressing you like they're talking to a mirror. You're merely in the way. Their words are reflections of their own inner critics. These sentiments have nothing to do with you. If you say anything at all, just say: "You're right" to shut the negativity down and provide these people with the validation they desperately need to hear. Remain unbothered by others' preoccupations with your ways of indulging in self-care. Maybe they should redirect some of the energy they utilize to resent your decisions to appease theirs.

Always remember: Those who are successful in an area of life feel no need to criticize those behind them on their journey – they either offer support or are too preoccupied with their own lives to notice those still finding their way to the next level of their lives.

Hope this helps xx

[stellagibs0ns]

bedannibal hurt/comfort: maybe something where bedelia has her period and is having some unusually bad cramps/feeling miserable? and being very resistant to any care because she's so used to dealing with things on her own

omg love <3

—

Bedelia makes a conscious effort not to ask people for their help. That makes things transactional, and eventually, they will want something in return. Even down to the smallest favours.

Her period, thankfully, had arrived in the middle of the day. If she’d bled onto the expensive sheets of the bed, she would’ve been thoroughly mortified. She knows very well that Hannibal would’ve had no issue with getting blood out of the linen, but she wasn’t willing to trouble him with it.

Two days in, she’s thoroughly miserable. Curled up on the couch with a cushion beneath her head and a heating pad doing little to soothe the gnawing cramps in her stomach.

She hears the sound of Hannibal shuffling papers and books in his study, and while she doesn’t want to ask for his comfort, she’s hoping he’ll pick up on her predicament.

He always seems to know when she’s menstruating, and he’ll leave boxes of sanitary supplies on the nightstand, along with chocolate covered pomegranate.

Bedelia shifts her position on the couch, bringing her knees closer to her chest as the cramps begin to settle in her back. She groans in discomfort, letting a slow exhale out of her nose.

As if on cue, Hannibal emerges from his study, his eyes falling on her. A look akin to sympathy crosses his face, before he makes his way to her. He takes a seat beside her, his hand reaching to brush a strand of blonde hair from her face.

“I’m fine,” she tells him, before he can even say anything.

“You’re in pain.”

“Yes,” she says. “But I’ve done this every month since I was fourteen. I’m quite sure I’ll live.”

Hannibal doesn’t falter as her sharp response, but instead urges her to sit up. Bedelia groans as she does, a wave of nausea washing over her from the intensity of the cramps.

“We have tea. Peppermint, ginger,” he says, his hands running down over her shoulders.

“I’m fine, Hannibal. It’s…unusually painful this month.”

“I can see that,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Bedelia softens slightly at that. Despite her standoffish demeanour, she can’t help but melt against his touch. “Lift your shirt, if you’re comfortable.”

Her eyebrow raises.

“For your cramping.”

Bedelia huffs, before complying. She lifts her sweater, allowing him to run his hands over her back. His touch is cool, but not uncomfortable. His thumbs press into her back, rubbing in slow circles.

She exhales, feeling the smallest sense of relief. He’s good with his hands, in a hundred different ways. And somehow he always knows what she needs. It’s part of the reason she loves him as much as she does. God help her.

After a few minutes, he urges her to lie back against him. His hands dip just below her waistband, and he rubs soothing circles into her lower stomach. She’s completely at his mercy like this, letting out soft sighs as he alleviates her pain. He doesn’t show any signs of stopping until she’s half-asleep against him, her body relaxed and fluid.

“Better?”

“Mm,” she hums, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles carefully.

[goingseventy]

28 things I am grateful for in my mid 28 

My 28 is very much mid. In fact, I think it’s worse than 27—the long-anticipated worst age because you know, 27 club. But I won’t let this adversity slip by like that. I’m not chill about it, I’m just trying to look like I am. Still, I won’t let this year slide without a fight.

After finding out Luigi Mangione’s letter about 27 things he’s grateful for a week ago, I am inspired to write mine. 

Sometimes we are stuck in the worst situation or condition possible and still have to make a conscious effort to stay positive. This is done not for others, but purely for ourselves. 

I doubt I can come up with a 28 list because this age has been horrible so far. Worst part is, I am right in the middle of 28. Basically I feel like I am in the worst situation possible and therefore, it’s much easier to write 28 things that make my life feel heavy. My body and mind is already dominated by cynicism virus. But, let’s not give in.

Saving Money

Look, I am not diligently saving money when there isn’t much money to be saved in the first place. I am just not the type to spend money mindlessly. That’s how I end up with decent savings for myself and barely my family. First of all, I am in a jobless situation right now. That’s why this matters to me.

2. Bought good quality goods when I can

Laptop, phone, jeans, footwear, and other insignificant goods that later turn out to be significant like the right size of bottle brush. By buying goods with actually good quality—especially at this time, it saved money and energy. I’m still surprised with how expensive the jeans I bought, but it was worth every penny anyway. Actually, I’d be all good at running away with just those four items as well. 

3. iguring out the right skincare routine and makeup products when I can

At this age, skincare and makeup are two things I’ve got to pick up fast and in no time. Just like some people, I used to not care about these two. But eventually, I did to survive and somehow reap the benefits. Sunscreen is a must!

4. People who are still staying by my side

Spoiler alert! I can sense they want to ditch me soon because I am a lot to deal with, especially when I’m not in my best form. So, I appreciate people who're still willing to stay by my side and help me as best as they can

5. My sanity

My sanity is not at its best, to be honest. Everyone around me knows that. But I am grateful I still have some and it’s quite unwavering. So, it’s nothing to worry about across all the fragments of this barely-significant life of mine.

6. Little things

I am more easily pleased and grateful of little things in life, day to day stuff. At the same time, I am also easily annoyed by little things in life. Life should be balanced, this one is a bit more natural for me.

I really can’t continue this post. I’ll come back when I have something to add. 

[buildingmaterialsindia]

If you’ve been around any construction site in Hyderabad, you’ll hear one common piece of advice —don’t mess around when it comes to cement. The brand you choose now can affect how your home or building stands five, ten, or even twenty years from now. And as someone who’s worked with plenty of masons and contractors across the city, I can tell you: the right cement, bought from the right place, makes all the difference.

That’s where Istika comes in. It’s not just a store — it’s a platform built for people who care about quality, pricing, and peace of mind. No more running between dealers or worrying about shady supply chains. Istika delivers top cement brands straight to your site, anywhere in Hyderabad.

Here are some of the top brands available on Istika that I personally recommend:

Ultratech Super Cement – Can’t Go Wrong

Ultratech super cement is everywhere, and there’s a reason for that. It’s consistent, bonds well, and rarely gives problems. I’ve seen people use it from footings to roof slabs, especially in fast-growing zones like Bachupally or Kompally. It’s a bit premium, yes—but worth it.

Nagarjuna Cement – Local and Reliable

If you’re building a 2BHK in areas like LB Nagar or Uppal, Nagarjuna Cement is a popular pick. It is strong and long-lasting. Works well for base work and even plastering. A lot of folks here just go for it without overthinking.

Maha Cement – Solid Build, Less Stress

For projects that demand a little more muscle—like a warehouse, godown, or a bigger residential block—Maha Cement holds up well. I’ve used it during the rains too, and it doesn’t go soggy like some others do. It’s got good moisture resistance and sets evenly.

Priya Cement – Smooth Finish, Fair Price

For those who are concerned about achieving a clean finish, Priya cement is a good option. Masons like it for slab work and even ceiling plaster. Doesn’t chip off much, and you get that smooth look with less effort. Also fits the budget nicely for most folks.

KCP Cement – Lasts Long, Ages Well

KCP Cement is one of those brands people often ignore but shouldn’t. It’s built for long-term strength. Great for balconies, boundary walls, and areas where you don’t want to keep patching things every year. Plus, their plants are eco-conscious, which some clients really like nowadays.

JSW Concreel HD – Heavy-Duty Stuff

Working on something exposed to harsh conditions? Go for JSW Concreel HD. It’s built for industrial zones, basements, and places where chemical exposure is an issue. More expensive, sure—but it gives peace of mind when durability matters most.

Why I Recommend Istika for Buying Cement

Now, a quick tip from experience—don’t waste time running around from one dealer to another. Istika Building Materials, Hyderabad’s own online building materials store, brings all these brands to your site. Clear pricing, no hidden costs, and their team helps you figure out which brand suits your work. That’s been a game-changer for many small builders I know.

Conclusion

Cement isn’t just grey powder. It’s the backbone of your build. So whether you’re working on a house in Manikonda or a shop near Mehdipatnam, choose the brand wisely. And honestly, with Istika, getting good cement has never been easier. Visit the Istika website now and place your order.

[anjani07]

Picking the Right Cement in Hyderabad – With a Trusted Partner Like Istika

If you’ve been around any construction site in Hyderabad, you’ll hear one common piece of advice —don’t mess around when it comes to cement. The brand you choose now can affect how your home or building stands five, ten, or even twenty years from now. And as someone who’s worked with plenty of masons and contractors across the city, I can tell you: the right cement, bought from the right place, makes all the difference.

That’s where Istika comes in. It’s not just a store — it’s a platform built for people who care about quality, pricing, and peace of mind. No more running between dealers or worrying about shady supply chains. Istika delivers top cement brands straight to your site, anywhere in Hyderabad.

Here are some of the top brands available on Istika that I personally recommend:

Ultratech Super Cement – Can’t Go Wrong

Ultratech super cement is everywhere, and there’s a reason for that. It’s consistent, bonds well, and rarely gives problems. I’ve seen people use it from footings to roof slabs, especially in fast-growing zones like Bachupally or Kompally. It’s a bit premium, yes—but worth it.

Nagarjuna Cement – Local and Reliable

If you’re building a 2BHK in areas like LB Nagar or Uppal, Nagarjuna Cement is a popular pick. It is strong and long-lasting. Works well for base work and even plastering. A lot of folks here just go for it without overthinking.

Maha Cement – Solid Build, Less Stress

For projects that demand a little more muscle—like a warehouse, godown, or a bigger residential block—Maha Cement holds up well. I’ve used it during the rains too, and it doesn’t go soggy like some others do. It’s got good moisture resistance and sets evenly.

Priya Cement – Smooth Finish, Fair Price

For those who are concerned about achieving a clean finish, Priya cement is a good option. Masons like it for slab work and even ceiling plaster. Doesn’t chip off much, and you get that smooth look with less effort. Also fits the budget nicely for most folks.

KCP Cement – Lasts Long, Ages Well

KCP Cement is one of those brands people often ignore but shouldn’t. It’s built for long-term strength. Great for balconies, boundary walls, and areas where you don’t want to keep patching things every year. Plus, their plants are eco-conscious, which some clients really like nowadays.

JSW Concreel HD – Heavy-Duty Stuff

Working on something exposed to harsh conditions? Go for JSW Concreel HD. It’s built for industrial zones, basements, and places where chemical exposure is an issue. More expensive, sure—but it gives peace of mind when durability matters most.

Why I Recommend Istika for Buying Cement

Now, a quick tip from experience—don’t waste time running around from one dealer to another. Istika Building Materials, Hyderabad’s own online building materials store, brings all these brands to your site. Clear pricing, no hidden costs, and their team helps you figure out which brand suits your work. That’s been a game-changer for many small builders I know.

Conclusion

Cement isn’t just grey powder. It’s the backbone of your build. So whether you’re working on a house in Manikonda or a shop near Mehdipatnam, choose the brand wisely. And honestly, with Istika, getting good cement has never been easier. Visit the Istika website now and place your order.

[twot0ned]

Autumn - 11/05/24

Dear Someone Else,

I love Autumn

It's my favorite season - Summer is FAR too hot, winter makes me sad like Bella Swan for 3 months, and Spring - well - Spring is my second favorite :)

Fall is just like nothing else. I could never live somewhere where the trees don't change and the temperature doesn't drop low enough to wear a sweater without wanting to die. I would hate that.

Lucky for me, I live in the exuberant midwest where the weed is expensive and Caseys' rain supreme! All hail the 99¢ Polar Pop!

I really don't want to be here anymore if I can be honest with all of you. I'm sick to death of it. One perk is the trees though. They turn the brightest yellow and reds you've ever seen. The leaves fall and decorate the streets and I simply love it. This year's feels like the first year I've ever really looked at them. Appreciated them, I should say, I've obviously seen them before. Duh.

I kinda feel like I haven't been fully conscious until now. I look back on things I did when I was younger and think to myself, "Who is that, I don't know her (and I don't want to know her ZING!)". Hilarious. I don't know if it's the cogs moving into place in my frontal cortex or the lack of mental health care that I didn't receive but desperately needed at 19 and now have that makes that girl feel so separate from me. Future me will probably think that about me right now in five years.

I feel like I've been underwater for so long and now I'm bonking my head trying to get all of the water out of my ear, but, ya know, there's still some in there. It's probably gonna be there for the rest of my life.

Don't worry about little old me now gentle reader, I've gotten a therapist since then and we're great friends. Like this (please imagine the thing that people do with the pinkies - you know what I'm talking about). I am also very medicated, yippee!

I feel...better. Yes, much better! Hopefully! I go back and forth on it sometimes.

Despite a valiant effort my autumn kinda blew this year. Which sucks because as previously stated!!! Fall is my favorite!!!

I didn't dress up for Halloween. Crushing. I didn't carve any pumpkins. Devastating. I did nothing but work and school. Which is.....fine. I don't know I can't decide if I'm being overdramatic about the whole thing. It's starting to feel that way.

The most I dressed up was a pair of cat ears I bought at the beginning of the shift I had on Halloween night (BOGUS!!). Some punk kid called me a furry. I shake my fist at you punk kid!

My life feels very in-between right now. In between teenagerhood (woof!) and, I don't know, the rest of it. The rest of my life I guess. I'm not there yet and I can feel it in my unsettled bones. I'm stuck in some sort of purgatory that takes place in my parent's basement and is full of deep breathing and pep-talks into the mirror. "You can do this" sometimes turns into "You have to do this so that the rest of your life doesn't suck hardcore! Come oN WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!! GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME WOMAN!!", or something along those lines.

Halloween came and went. I didn't do any of the things I love to do and now it's November (the worst month of the year, what even is there, Thanksgiving? okay...). Is that spilled milk upsetting enough to cry over? I am still not sure.

I definitely have already but I want to know if I should feel ridiculous about it or not.

My favorite time of year flew by me and now it's election day and the sun set at 5 pm this afternoon. Staying positive is becoming a lot of work to keep up.

Is that how it's gonna be for the rest of my life? Working really hard to keep it up? When will it get easy? Right now it's really hard. I'm so terribly lonesome. I am not where I want to end up.

Sincerely,

TwoToned

***

[realityhop]

...

"The prefrontal cortex (PFC) is your “high order” or “executive function” conscious part of the brain.  Each of us has our own personal Jiminy Cricket, like the character from Pinocchio, which keeps us from indulging in bad behavior and keeps our baser desires in check.  In an uncontrollable stressful situation, the amygdala–HPA axis commands the release of neurotransmitters including dopamine.  These flood the PFC, silencing Jiminy, which disinhibits you from doing some wild and crazy things.  When your PFC is under fire by cortisol, your rational decision-making ability is toast.  You can’t differentiate between immediate or delayed gratification.  So, instead of your Jiminy telling you to “Zen” when someone steals your parking space, you are much more likely to react on impulse and extract your short-lived justice, just as Kathy Bates’s character in the film Fried Green Tomatoes (1991) did (Towanda!). […] Throughout adolescence and early adulthood, the cognitive connections between actions and consequences are muddled, as the maturation of the prefrontal cortex (the Jiminy Cricket) is not complete until approximately twenty-five years of age."

— Robert Lustig, The Hacking of the American Mind: The Science Behind the Corporate Takeover of Our Bodies and Brains (2017)

"Social-emotional learning focuses on knowing how to name and manage our emotions, delay gratification, and show grit and temerity in reaching our goals, as well as on knowing how to repair conflict and how to reach out for help where needed.  No matter how great our self-understanding, we need practice and awareness to effectively express and manage our emotions, empathize, engage in self-care, listen well, communicate effectively, and repair relationship problems.  Without this, it can be all too easy to use our birth chart’s archetypal blueprint as a justification for bad behavior (“I didn’t mean to yell at you, but I can’t help it with three planets in Aries!”) rather than as a guide for skillful interactions and service to the world.  It’s too easy to retreat into ourselves rather than connect with others in a meaningful way.  And once we start to build a working knowledge of astrology, it’s tempting to use others’ charts to make assumptions about what they are and are not capable of or whether it’s worth our effort to connect with them deeply. Most self-help books focus on getting you what you want, making your fortune, realizing your potential, chasing your dreams, being a rugged individualist who does it your way.  In a world where most people are used to having it their way — the music they like, the newsfeed that supports their beliefs, the clothes that express the self — polishing one’s personal identity and chasing personal achievement are held as the highest aims.  Yet, the idea that we thrive most when we take responsibility for and rely upon only ourselves has become a huge source of sadness and disconnection."

— Jennifer Freed, Use Your Planets Wisely: Master Your Ultimate Cosmic Potential with Psychological Astrology (2020)

"In the course of developing emotional responsibility, most of us experience three stages: (1) “emotional slavery”—believing ourselves responsible for the feelings of others, (2) “the obnoxious stage”—in which we refuse to admit to caring what anyone else feels or needs, and (3) “emotional liberation”—in which we accept full responsibility for our own feelings but not the feelings of others, while being aware that we can never meet our own needs at the expense of others."

— Marshall Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life (1999)

Learn the skill of delaying your response when faced with someone who is intentionally trying to provoke you. Refuse to let others dictate your mood. Take charge of your emotions. You decide when, how, and whether you want to to react. You control yourself, no one else does.

[leviathans-watching]

oohh how about a boba or coffee date with the brothers? ~Lycoris

boba date with the brothers

includes: the brothers x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .7k | rated g | m.list

a/n: heyyy i hope you enjoy!! this truly was so fun to write and i feel like there will be a part two with the dateables lol. my inbox is open to chat, leave feedback, and req so come on over!!

please reblog (人ﾟ∀ﾟ)

➳ lucifer is paying for you, no questions asked. even if you offer to pay him back, there’s no way in hell he’s letting you do so. he makes sure to take you to a place he thinks you’ll like and the effort was well-spent because the place is exactly to your liking. you both order and he waits at the counter before you grab them a table and when he comes over carrying the cups you notice he’s gotten you a straw that matches your drink. he also offers you a taste of his every time.

➳ mammon is super excited to go out with you, and his enthusiasm, while low-key, is contagious so you look like the happiest pair in the joint. you guys switch on and off on who’s paying, something neither of you mind, and mammon is conscious of picking less expensive things when its your turn, even though you assure him it’s fine. while you wait for your drinks he grabs your hand, swinging it gently back and forth. people always tell you that you’re a cute couple, which makes him preen every time without fail.

➳ levi usually mobile orders his stuff but he doesn’t mind going in so much if it’s with you. you often let the other person order for you to spice up your day a little, and you’re always happy with whatever he gets you since he knows your taste so well. even if you’re the one paying, levi makes sure to stick some money into the tip jar, something that just makes you love him even more. once your drinks come you tend to take them with you on your way instead of sitting and drinking them, but this allows you to savor your drink more so you’re more than alright with it.

➳ satan is on his best behavior from the get go, holding the door for you and acting as charming as can be. the people manning the till always give you an ‘aren’t you lucky’ look, and yes, you really are. he insists on paying, and unlike lucifer, will let you pay him back later or just treat you both next time, although when next time rolls around he usually swoops in and covers it before you can. he knows your order by heart so orders for the both of you while you decided if you want to eat inside, and when your drink comes he lets you take a sip of his first.

➳ asmo doesn’t really care who pays, and neither do you, since you know it’ll all even out in the end, so it’s just whoever offers fist. he likes to get complimentary drinks, so he’ll wait for you to choose before he makes his choice and once they're out, he gets straws that match the drinks but you take the one to match his so the photo is more cohesive. you tend to find somewhere nice outside to sit, enjoying your drinks in the sun, and asmo continues to take photos, though he doesn't post them, saying they’re meant for the two of you, not the public.

➳ beel will always ask for a sip of your drink but you have to watch him close or he'll drain the whole thing. it’s turned almost into a game, where he sees how much he can get away with, and in return you often steal his drink and make it even. he’s also a tipper, and all the people at the counter always titter and blush, definitely smitten with him- you don't even mind; they have good taste. beel, of course, is oblivious. you stay in the shop to eat, and every once in a while he convinces you to get another to go after you finish your first.

➳ belphie has his wallet out before you can even say anything, but you know he’s good for it, so whatever. sometimes you want to spoil him so you pay, but usually, it’s him. he takes even longer to decide on his order than you, but eventually picks, though, to your disappointment it’s usually the same thing as you. you’ve tried to explain why getting two flavors and sharing is better but he really doesn’t get it. when the drinks are handed over you get them, and he holds the door for you on the way out so you can drink them in the car.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own